Stay with me for Christmas
by Wildweasel
Summary: Few days before Christmas, tragedy strikes the CSI team as one of their own is taken from them. Will Christmas season brings them the miracle they’re all waiting for? Angsty Smacked but it’s Christmas so... All the team is there. 3 shots story
1. In my darkest hours

**A/N:** Well, just a big warning as this is rated T for violence in the first chapter. (3 shots)

**Summary:** Few days before Christmas, tragedy strikes the CSI team as one of their own is taken from them. Will Christmas season brings them the miracle they're all waiting for? Angsty Smacked but it's Christmas so... All the team is there.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, beside the characters I created for this story. CSI NY belongs to CBS and Jerry Bruckeimer.

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**Chapter 1: **In my darkest hours....

_December 20__th_

He blinked at the file before him as the lines faded in a gray, hazy blur. Tired, he pinched at the top of his nose trying to shave off the sleep that weighed heavily on his eyelids. This day had been too long; hell, the entire week had been pressing its heavy wings on him. But now the case was closed, thanks to the high quality work his team had put onto the case, Henry and his scum bags would never again threaten the city. Though some members remained to be identified, the most dangerous had been taken off the streets and that was the most important.

He let out a tired sigh as he slumped back into his chair, and closed his eyes for a minute. Maybe he would be able to recharge his battery if he allowed his body to rest just fifteen minutes. He felt the tensed muscles of his shoulders starting to relax a bit as his mind drifted off far away from his office. The tension in his neck fading and his mind slowly surrendering to exhaustion, he didn't hear the quiet heels entering his office and closing the door behind her; although the faint scent of her well known perfume carved a faint smile onto his lips.

"What is it Stella?" he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

Even without looking at her, he could hear her lips curled into a smile. She was probably going to tell him something like, _go home Mac_, or _I told you so_. So he kept his eyes closed and waited, whatever he said wasn't going to change her mind. In ten years of friendship, he knew better than to try to change her mind when it wasn't work related.

As she gazed at his sleeping form nestled in his chair, eyes closed, his dark blue shirt lightly open just enough to reveal the black t-shirt underneath and his sleeves rolled up half way his arms; it was all to make her heart skip a beat. He looked so tired, she thought with a frown.

"You know, we..." Stella said, stressing the 'we'. "We...normal people, do use a bed for this kind of activity," she dropped, half amused to watch her boss and best friend lying in his chair to find sleep and hoping to push him out of his office for a well deserved rest back home. Although, she was more than glad that he thought about taking some time for resting, especially after this week, but his office was surely not the best place.

"I'm well aware of that fact, thank you," he replied with a tired sigh. But then he continued on a more playful tone. "Although, I do know other activities for such furniture too."

Suddenly, his eyes jerked open when he realized that he had just spoken his thoughts aloud. A wide grin spread over Stella's face as she was staring at him, not sure she had clearly heard him, but decided to play along.

"Well I guess if you still know how it works, then, you should go and rest. The other kind of activities isn't possible until you have recovered a bit of your strength," she teased with a big grin.

_What?_ She thought, as she watched him sit back straight up in his chair and his face blushing into a nice shade of red. Did she just flirt with him? Her own cheek turned into a bit of dark pink as she tried to hide the smile carving her lips; her mischievous mind now playing with the possibilities. _Stella Bonasera, what are you doing to your friend? _She scolded herself.

"Huh, I... Did you come for something in particular?" he articulated, as his nervousness grew suddenly, a stunned expression painted on his face.

He tried to shave off the feelings Stella's flirt was producing in his mind, as images involving his partner suddenly flowed his mind. Silently, he swallowed his nervousness and put on a more serious mask, shaving those thoughts as they weren't good for a long lasting friendship like he had with her. There were things that would never happen, he scolded himself, and Stella was one of those things. She was so full of life, and he was too broody sometimes that the two of them had nothing in common besides their love for justice. _Well, sometime it's all it takes_, replied his mind._ No, shut up! It would never work anyway. _He shook the idea just before his eyes connected with the amazing gleaming emerald of hers. _Although... _He sighed._ Drop it, Mac._ _Crap,_ _I'm really too tired._

"So," he said, giving her another tired smile as he straightened up in his chair. "You've come for?"

She raked her throat as she saw his expression return to his normal, tired self, and bit her lower lips at the turmoil that had returned in the gleaming blue pool of his eyes. She marvelled an instant if he knew how his eyes could switch from a dark, serious blue to a mischievous green on the same day, and the effect it had on her. She breathed slowly as she was about to challenge his well known stubbornness.

"As you may have noticed," she started, "it's way past nine, the case is closed, and everybody, but you, was back home two hours ago. The lab is empty, Mac, so what are you still doing here?" her tone was soft, but implied she wasn't about to leave without a good answer.

He sighed, somehow he had known the minute she had entered she hadn't come to talk about work. Although he was grateful she was looking out for him, but times, like tonight, was making him grumpy, and he wondered how close he had let her in to let her think she had to do that. Because if she was doing that, it meant he had shown weakness somehow during the day, otherwise she wouldn't have come, and that simple idea was enough to make him grumpy. He replayed quickly today's events, and what he had said, thinking he had probably dropped his barrier when she wasn't far and that had to be what had triggered her coming in his office. He sighed, as he stood up and turned to the window behind him. A dark night had settled behind the glass, only broken by the blinking lights of the city.

"Mac," her soft voice broke the silence of his office, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You haven't done anything that has me worried," she said as if she could read his thoughts, her eyes watching the faint reflection of his face through the black window.

He turned slowly, their eyes silently connecting, blue ocean meeting gleaming emerald. "It's just that with this week...and knowing you...well, I knew what it would do to you." She cocked her head on the side, trying to get a reaction from him, her eyes sparkling.

"Ten years of practice, right," he huffed, putting on his charming smile. He sighed, as his hands rested wearily on his hips. "Why do I even bother to try?"

A wide smile spread over her face, responding to his. "Well, I still have no idea. But since, for once, you're in the mood to listen, why don't you go home and have a good night sleep, okay? I'm on call, so if anything happens; I'll protect the city while you sleep, Batman."

He chuckled at her reference. "Alright, alright, Robin," he emphasized the name. "Hold the fort for me, will ya?"

He walked toward the door and grabbed his jacket and coat. Outside, snow had begun to fall again in heavy bundles and Christmas week was going to be coated with a real, thick layer of white flakes. Sliding into his coat he turned to her.

"You go home too," he uttered with a smile.

She smiled back. "Don't worry for me, I'm not like my boss," she teased with a wink. "I do know when it's time to go home. Besides, I have Christmas presents to pack and tag."

He let out a fake offended grunt, before he turned to the hallway.

"Good night, Stell."

"Nighty night, Mac, see ya in the morning," she said as she patted his arm.

He lingered a few seconds in her touch, his tired sight unable to look away from her emerald eyes, as a lot of thoughts soared into his mind; hope, fear, love; all blended into one. His mouth was dry and his heart was beating fast when he finally nodded tiredly before heading to the elevator. As the doors closed behind him, the beating slowed but pain settled in instead.

A few minutes later, he exited the building and hailed a cab. He was too tired to drive, and the cab would take him home fast enough to be sure his eyes wouldn't close off before he reached his apartment.

As he slumped in the back of the car, shaving the white flakes covering his shoulders, he remembered Stella's face, and when her cheeks had reddened. Strange thoughts had then appeared before his eyes; images of a life he once had. As he let his head slant on the back of the seat, his mind wondered how it would be to have her every day, at home like he used to with Claire. He sighed, recalling the unfair twist of fate that had taken her from him. But then Stella's face appeared again before his eyes and he wondered why his thoughts were always driven to her lately.

Since Greece, there hadn't been a day without him thinking about her. It was like something had changed in their relationship, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He sighed, deep down, he knew that feeling. The way he had managed to see her all these years had changed, though since he had met her, he had been aware of his deep feelings toward her, but with Claire, her sudden death and his twenty four hour job, he had always managed to keep them at bay. Well, until now. He closed his eyes. But in Greece, he had told her. He had let her see something he hadn't even admitted to himself for years. He felt his tensed shoulders beginning to unwind. Although he felt relieved, somehow, to tell her, she hadn't exactly responded as he would have expected. Despite the fact she hadn't rejected him, she hadn't said a thing about it since their return, and now he was wondering if he hadn't hurt her in anyway.

He smirked to himself. Well, the fact that she was still coming to his office to make him go home was proof enough their friendship hadn't been altered, but somehow he couldn't shake the idea that something had changed. And now, what was really bugging him was that he couldn't say if it had been for the best or the worst. Now, she seemed more careful with him when she talked about personal stuff. Was she afraid that he wants to take things to another level, and she wasn't ready for it? He slowly breathed out as he felt a small headache rising beneath his temples. Deep inside he wanted things to evolve and try to take the road to this next level, he just didn't know how.

His sight ran outside the window, gazing at the twinkling lights of the street. Night had settled long hours before, and despite the heavy white veil of snow, he could still distinguish the closed shops with their decorated showrooms and the few people hurrying to go home.

Christmas was in four days, and he hadn't talked to her about his project of inviting her. He knew she had no plans for Christmas Eve, and although it tore his heart to know that nobody had thought about inviting her, it made him hope she would say yes when he would ask her tomorrow. Though, he had wanted to ask her for two days now, postponing every time they had a new crime scene, thinking it wasn't the right place. But now, with Christmas coming fast, he had no time to lull more over. No. Tomorrow he would ask her to join him for Christmas, and then he'd know if things could progress between them. _Yes, tomorrow_, he repeated silently, a faint smile grazing his lips.

The cab pulled over at the corner of his building. After paying the driver, he got out tiredly, his muscles aching and sore from his restless week. The frosty snow cracked under his boots as he stepped onto the curb**, **and closed the door. Lifting up his collar, a small puffy cloud escaped his lips as he headed toward his building.

Passing before a small narrow street, he stopped when he heard someone yelling. He tensed when he recognized cries of fear and anguish smoldering into a woman's voice. Following his instincts, he stepped into the dark alley, his hand searching for the reassuring bump under his coat. His gloved fingers quickly found the handle of his gun, but he kept it inside his holster. _Probably a junky threatening a poor old lady._

But as he stepped closer, the alley remained dark as if the lights usually displayed had been turned off. His heart began to beat a bit faster. _Something's off_, his mind repeated.

"NYPD," he yelled, as he turned on his flashlight, his beam shaving the darkness before him and revealing traces of footsteps in the white snow. "Show yourself!"

Faint sobs echoed his voice as he took another step, crunching the icy snow as darkness swallowed him entirely. He pulled his gun from its holster, and raised it before him, cupping both his gun and his flash light in a firm handle before him. He could hear now his heart pounding behind his temples. As a former marine who had been confronted to dangerous situations, he had always been able to keep his anxiety at bay, and today was no different.

"Show yourself!" he commanded again. "Show yourself or I shoot." He bluffed with an angry voice.

He wasn't about to shoot on total darkness, but he counted on the fact the other wouldn't know police procedure, and would then, surrender to his threat. Ahead of him, he heard scuffling and metal being raked on the icy ground. _Crap,_ the guy was running, he thought, as he went for a run too, and became totally swallowed by the dark gloomy alley. His beam swayed before him as he could hear his breath coming in short rasps before he stopped, listening._ Where the hell is he? _His eyes darted through the heavy darkness as silence had once more settled in the alley.

_Something isn't right,_ his mind yelled as he turned on himself. He could see the faint glittering light of the main street. He had run so fast in the alley he hadn't noticed how far he was now from the street, and its safe light. Warnings rang in his mind; but he was a cop, and if someone needed his help, he couldn't yield to safety. His short breath escaped his lips in a big cloud before him as his beam searched the silent, darken place, his fingers gripping around the handle of his gun.

"NYPD, show yourself!" he shouted again.

Then, to his surprise, a man stepped out from behind a trash bin and before his light, his hands raised before him, obvious fear painted on his face. As Mac took a look at the man standing before him, no weapon in hand, a small used hooded jacket and a weary green pants, he slowly lowered his gun, his own face relaxing a bit at the defenseless man.

"NYPD, who are you?" he asked, but the man remained quiet, a strange look on his face. "I won't hurt you," he said, his voice softer as he took a step toward the man.

"Yeah I know," replied dryly the man as the look of fear disappeared from his face. "But I will," he stated with a smirk, his eyes looking over Mac's shoulder.

Mac's eyes widened at the sudden realization that the guy wasn't alone and turned to look behind him. Before being able to see what was coming, the rough impact of something hard collided with the right side of his face sending him straight to the ground. In the fall, he lost his gun and light and helplessly heard them rolling into the snow far from him. Hot burning liquid flowed from the right side of his head and dripped into his neck as he laid face down, spitting blood from his mouth. He blinked as some blood slid into his right eye while he raised himself on his hands. But he was cut short as a painful blow struck his back, and he was thrust back into the cold snow. He heaved in pain as the tip of hard boots hit his right side, kicking and kicking again.

He curled into his side to protect himself but some kicks aimed at his head, too, made him break his defense, his back sloping onto the snowy ground. He blinked while he tried to sit and stop the kicks. Though he managed to grab some boots and send his opponents falling into the snow, the kicks kept coming from all directions. His sight was blurry and through the flickering light that was aimed directly into his face, it was hard to see how many and where were his opponents. Several times he tried to rise on his legs, only to be whacked down with vicious blow hitting his back or knees. His head was spinning, and he had trouble breathing. He felt the cold snow beneath his knees as another painful blow hit him right in the stomach, breaking some bones in the way. He fell forward, his hands over his stomach as he was fighting just to stay conscious. Kicks continued to rain over his drained body, and after what seemed like an eternity, it finally stopped as harsh hands grabbed him and shoved him onto his back. He laid motionless in the snow, panting, blood leaked from gashes over his eyes, cheeks and lips. Silent, puffy flakes caressed his swollen and bloody face as they fell with grace from the dark sky over him.

He silently admired that grace as his eyes closed, pain wrenching his entire body. It was hard to breathe now that blood had invaded his mouth and throat. Heaving with each breath, he felt the coppery taste in his mouth and the dull pain in his head warned him about a probable concussion. He swallowed the blood mixed with his saliva and his stomach churned against the taste.

"Who...what.. you want?" he managed to breathe out, his body unable to move.

He heard the first guy smirked before his heart skipped when he heard him give instructions to his men. "Take off his coat and jacket, he won't need it anyway."

Fear seized Mac's chest as he felt pairs of hands grabbing him and turning him onto his stomach. They roughly tugged off his coat and vest, taking off his gloves as well. He felt his body constrict in pain as one of the guys immobilized him, his knees deepening into the small of his back as his arms were pulled back behind him and a small groan escaped his lips. Knowing they were about to tie him up, making his escape even less probable, and with the last remnants of adrenaline in his veins, he jerked his body from their grasps. But too fast, his boots slipped on the icy ground, keeping him in the middle of his opponents. As he fought to keep them from pinning him to the ground once more, he felt his strength quickly abandoning him. His hazy vision rendered him unable to send an accurate kick or punch to his opponents. And soon, he found himself, losing his energy at punching and kicking at empty space, before a dreadful blow to the left of his head ended his worthless fight and left him motionless to the snowy ground, panting for air.

His coat and jacket now off, he felt the nasty bite of the cold harsh weather eating at his flesh as strong knees sank painfully again into his back, crushing more of his bruised ribs. He tried to breathe but his lungs had emptied the minute his arms were tugged with force behind him; a pair of metallic rings clinked before he felt his own cuffs trapping his wrists. Blood leaked from his nose and over his eyes; fogging his vision. With the loud pounding hammering behind his skull, everything seemed dull and far from him, even the cold crunchy snow grazing his cheek wasn't so cold anymore. He heard the same guy barked orders and found himself being hauled back up to his knees.

He let out a faint grunt as his head was harshly pulled backward as a cold, callous hand gripped a streak of his dark hair. A bright light was shoved into his bruised and battered face. He blinked several times hoping to clear his vision from both the hurting light and the blood seeping into them.

A face appeared before him, although he could only smell the fetid stench of the man breathing in front of him, he was able to distinguish the shape of his head, and his curly hair cut by the bright light behind him. He swallowed the painful lump blocking his airway.

"Seems you don't look so proud now detective," sneered the man before him.

Mac blinked as more blood dripped into his eyes. It was hard to breathe, his chest was on fire from the beating, and he knew he wasn't going to stay conscious very long.

"Who ...r ... you?" he slurred, between his swollen, cut lips; his breath too short to give him enough air.

"You don't need to know, you're dead anyway," uttered the man with some pride in his voice as he turned to someone and grabbed something Mac couldn't see.

Then, he whacked a steel bat into Mac's head, and watched happily as the detective's head sagged limply onto his chest, blood dripping freely into the pure, white snow beneath his body. He nodded to one of his men, and the guy behind Mac grabbed, again, his dampened, messy hair and pulled his head back.

His heart hammered painfully behind his temples as he felt his head being pulled back again. If they hit him like that again he didn't think he'd have enough strength left to stay conscious. But he had no time to brace himself as he felt his chest wrenched in pain as the second blow had violently hit him in the ribs, breaking some bones in the way. Released from his assailants' grip, he lurched over as violent tremors ran from his gut and into his stomach. In slow motion, he saw himself throwing up the small contents of his stomach into the snow, the white layer stained by his blood; his flushed, burning face falling into the cold, icy snow as his limp body hit the frozen ground.

A small sparkle of rebellious energy ran through his veins. If he was about to die he wasn't gonna let them have their fun so easily. As another pair of hands grabbed his arms to pull him back to his knees, he pushed on his legs and feet, his head lunged backward. With a satisfied crack, he felt his head hitting the nose of the man behind him. The man screamed from the pain as he loosened his grip on Mac. Not waiting to lose the advantage of surprise, he thrust his body forward and into the man that was in charge. His right shoulder painfully struck the man right into his stomach, emptying his lungs at the same time. Now on the ground and on the top of the guy, Mac slid his legs around the neck of his opponent and locked his neck in a deadly snare. The man choked under Mac's tightening grip. He tried to punch him, but he was too far, and only managed to punch Mac's legs.

His breath short, and his vision greying, Mac knew he didn't have a lot of time left, so he squeezed even more tightly on his hold. If he could make the guy pass out, then he would only have two to deal with. But he didn't get enough time to finish his plans as he was rapidly cut by another blow hitting his head from behind. Knocked out by the blow, he felt his body sink motionless into the snow. His eyes shut as his head was pounding so loud he felt drums beating behind his temples and his head about to explode from the wrenching pain. The noise ringing so loudly, he was unaware of what was going on around him.

Free from the detective's hold, the man coughed and raised onto his feet. He swayed a little as his feet slid in the slick snow. One hand rubbing his neck, he grabbed the baseball bat one of his guys was handing him and even though Mac lay unmoving in the snow, he hit the detective into the ribs with full force. To make sure the blow had broken the bones underneath the blue, crimson stained shirt, he hit another time, grunting in rage and was finally satisfied when Mac moaned a cry of agony. Silence settled in the dark alley, as the leader shot an evil glance at his goons, only broken by the faint whizz of Mac's short, ragged breath.

"You think you can come and rule in our street without payin' the price, Taylor? Well ya were wrong!" the leader growled angrily as he grasped a handful of Mac's dark short hair, lifting his face, so he could see into his swollen eyes. "You cops need some help understanding who's the boss in these streets! And I'm gonna send a message to your sneaky rat friends." He grinned wickedly. "And you're gonna be my messenger!" He roughly tossed Mac's head to the snowy ground.

"Guys," he called to the men around him as he nodded toward Mac's curled body, "Pick him up!"

Mac felt his body being dragged upward as strong arms caught him under his arms and tried to raise him onto his feet. His legs, unable to support him, gave out as soon as he was standing, his head sagging limply between his shoulders.

Heaving in pain, his thoughts turned to Stella and what he wanted to ask her tomorrow. But as the man in front of him pulled a knife from his pocket, he sadly realized there would be no tomorrow for him. He should have asked her a long time ago. He shouldn't have waited. But now it was too late. He fought to keep his eyes open, writhing weakly in the goons' hands.

"Hold him!" ordered the man, as he brought the blade under Mac's throat. "Scared to die, Taylor?" he sneered.

Mac tried to free himself from the grasp of the men behind him, but their hold was strong, and his legs buckled under him, sliding aimlessly into the slick snow. His body tensed and he swallowed as he watched the knife tear into the fabric of his dark shirt and then do the same with his undershirt. The cold, freezing wind blew on his bare chest, and he shook uncontrollably, sending jolts of hot, flaring pain through his battered body.

With a wicked smile carved on his face, the man sank the blade into his skin. At first Mac thought the guy was going to kill him, but the blade carved only into the first layers of his skin just over his liver, as the man began to etch letters into his flesh. With each cut deepening into his flesh, Mac felt his rage rose.

He had been so stupid to come into this alley. There had been no warning that this was a trap, but he cursed himself for letting himself be trapped so easily. But mostly, he cursed himself for not talking to Stella. Another cut sank deeper this time tearing more flesh, a flaring pain burst from the fresh cut as the guy grunted at the men behind him to get a firm grip on Mac, who was slipping from their hold.

He exhaled painfully, his head hanging loosely onto his chest and his heart racing madly behind his temples. Smears of red blood rolled down his chest, wetting the waistband of his pants. As a streak of his shirt was suddenly slapped back onto his skin by the cold wind, the torn, crimson fabric remained stuck against his wounded skin while blood soaked the fabric.

The leader took a step back and watched with satisfaction at his work. The detective was sagging heavily between the firm grips of his men. Blood leaking freely from both sides of his face, sliding into his neck, staining his collar with large, dark crimson spots, and his torso bore proudly, his message in dripping, bloody letters. He smiled, before a frown carved his forehead, thinking.

"Hum. What am I forgetting?" he uttered aloud.

One of his men glanced at him with a playful smile. "I don't see punctuation boss!" he stated with a smile.

His boss laughed dryly. "You're right. What would I do without you, guys?"

The men laughed stupidly behind Mac, as their boss stepped closer to him, his face inches to the detective's drooping head, and tightened his grip around the slick, bloody handle of his knife. With a sick nod to one of his goons, Mac's head was again roughly jerked backward.

"C'mon Taylor, don't play dead yet!" huffed the boss as he slapped Mac's bruised cheek. "C'mon wake up! Don't spoil the fun by passing out."

Mac's eyes fluttered open and his blue, green pools locked into the dark void of the man before him. He swallowed painfully as he felt cold sweat dripping to his neck and mixing with his warm blood. He tried to send a cocky replied, but he was too exhausted to, so instead he shot his angriest glare to the man before him as he gulped a cold breath of air.

"Good!" said the boss. "I see you still have the gut to provoke me." He glanced at his guys, sneering at the detective, and then approached his head to be close enough to Mac's ears. "Now remember to tell your friends to never mess with us again," he whispered, before he took a step back and threw his hand forward.

The knife stabbed Mac straight into his right side. The cold bite of the flesh being torn by the blade invaded Mac's body in an instant, before he felt the knife being twisted painfully and then went further up into his gut. Blood rose from his throat and into his mouth as his stomach retched in pain and the boss pulled the knife out from his trembling body.

Both men beside him let go of him as he collapsed into the snowy ground with a dull thud. His beating heart echoed painfully in his ears as he watched the white snow being quickly stained by a small, crimson puddle of his blood. His vision greyed and he knew, that, this time, he had no strength left. With one last thought to his partner, and regrets she would never know what he really felt for her, he watched helplessly as dark spots blurred his vision. The faint beating of his heart was all he could hear now as the world had shut down everything else, and his life was quickly leaving his numb body as darkness claimed him.

_**xxx**_

With a tired, though, happy smile grazing her lips, Stella stepped out of the elevator and entered the main hallway of the Crime Lab building. She had left her car at home this morning, and she knew from the start that she would have to get a cab to come home tonight. And now the perspective of letting herself sink into the back of the cab to bring her home was more appealing than anything else. Though, she knew something else that could be even more appealing than that. With a sparkle of joy, she let her mind wander back to the conversion she had with Mac earlier, and as usual, her face lightened at the thought of his charming smile that she had always thought was reserved only to her. She didn't know why, but she couldn't help but think about her partner, since they have returned from Greece.

She knew that Mac was a very private man, but what he had told her there had been as if he had opened a door she had never hoped he would. She bit her lower lip, as a playful smile tried to curve her face. _Gee!_ That man had made her blush with just few words and now her mind was marvelling at what could happen next if he was serious.

She shook her head trying to be more serious. No. There were small chances that Mac would try to get serious. She sighed, her smile fading at the sad thought. But it quickly reappeared when she thought about the present she had already bought for him and had still to wrap before she could give him on Christmas Eve. _Well, if I can arrange things to see him at that moment. _He sure was going to love it. She hoped he would. A frown carved her forehead. _No, he will._ She decided. And maybe it would give him a hint.

As she passed the guard on duty and headed to the main door, she stopped dead, hearing tires screeching. Screams came from the street outside, and she was about to rush outside, her gun already in hand, when someone threw a heavy package through the main windows. The glass shattered to the tiled floor, as the package rolled into the floor and crashed into a bunch of chairs, breaking the legs of the wooden table in the center. The heavy tray, laid on the table, dropped right over the package with a thud.

She rushed outside just in time to see the back of a black van turning into a corner. As she walked back to the building, she noticed a dark trail of drops from the curb, and continuing through the windows. Following the trail, pieces of glass crushed under her heels as she stepped over the broken window, her gun now back in its holster and headed quickly to the broken table as she had spotted a pair of dark, black boots underneath.

Trying to quiet her heart, beating a bit fast in her ears, she glanced at the stunned guard, _civilian_, she noted as she crouched near the table and lifted the wooden tray.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest the second she saw the face of the bruised man laid before her, and then spotted the dark, crimson pool already forming under his body . _Oh god, Mac! _His hands cuffed behind his back, his body laid terribly still in the middle of the shattered glass, his head sagging limply on his side.

Dropping on her knees, her eyes set with horror on the pouring blood leaking from his battered body. "Call an ambulance! An officer is down!" she shouted frantically as her hands pressed on Mac's stomach trying to stop the blood from leaving his body.

"Mac! Oh, no! You stay with me, okay?"

Getting no response from her wounded partner, she let her voice rise into the hallway, not caring if anyone could hear her fear smoldering behind each word.

"C'mon Mac, stay with me!" she shouted again with a croaked voice and between hot tears, trying desperately to get a response from him, but her partner's eyes remained desperately closed as more blood oozed between her fingers. Fear clinging at her stomach, she slapped his face with a bloody hand. "Don't you dare die on me, Mac! Stay with me, please! Stay with me, Mac!"

_TBC... two more to go..._

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_**A/N:** Okay, sorry for the cliffie but it was necessary for the story. Two more chapters before the end, so don't forget to let me know what you've thought of this chapter. And thanks for R&R.

About Darkness closing in, don't worry that story will be update, though my beta and I got carried away by this Christmas fic and so it will be delayed for the holidays, I'm really sorry for that.


	2. I look for you

**A/N: **Thank you all for your great reviews and to those who read or put this story on alert. And a warm thank you for my beta, Blackdragon189. Since you're all waiting, here we are, chapter 2, enjoy...

**Summary:** Few days before Christmas tragedy strikes the CSI team as one of their own is taken from them. Will Christmas season bring them the miracle they're all waiting for? Angsty Smacked.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, beside the characters I created for this story. CSI NY belongs to CBS and Jerry Bruckeimer.

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**Chapter 2: **....I look for you....

_December 22__nd_

_...breathe_, she told to herself.

_Her heart had stopped beating in her chest the second she had seen the face of the bruised man laid before her, his face, Mac's face, a dark, crimson pool already forming under his body. _

_...breathe,_ her mind repeated.

_She remembered her voice shaking as she had asked for an ambulance. Her hands had pressed on his stomach trying to stop the blood flow from leaving his body. _

_...breathe...breathe in..._

"_Mac! You stay with me, okay?" she had told him. But he hadn't answered, neither move, instead his eyes had remained desperately closed. "C'mon Mac, stay with me!" she had shouted again, her voice struggling with the sobs choking her throat. "Don't you dare die on me, Mac! Stay with me, please! Stay with me, Mac!" _

_...breathe in...breathe,_ _Stella,_ she repeated to herself.

And now that she was alone, all she remembered was his blood on her hands. She closed her eyes, feeling burning tears watering her eyes as a wrenching pain soared from her heart; a pain she would never be able to erase. She shaved the threatening tears with one hand and opened her eyes, trying to focus her mind on something else.

The glacial wind stroked her flushed, burning cheeks lightly. The stars looked bright tonight, she thought, as she gazed sadly at the starry sky over her. But as the small lights glimmered over her, she felt her resolution fade. How could she think about something else? She swallowed the lump in her throat and brought a trembling hand before her mouth. She would never be the same since that day. No. Never. Not without him.

She was there because he was her friend, the love of her life, although he didn't know as she had been stupid enough to never tell him; and now she was there. A deep painful breath escaped her lips as she tried to remember what things had driven her here.

Truth be told, if she hadn't tried to send him home she wouldn't have ended up here, and none of this would have ever happened. He would still be by her side, and she wouldn't have cried again and again, every time she was thinking about him, hoping that she was going to wake up from this terrible nightmare.

It shouldn't have happened to them. No. Not to them and not now. Not just when she was thinking that maybe their relationship could evolve into something new; something beautiful. All had started with her asking him to go home. Why hadn't she gone with him? Then, she wouldn't have found herself under this sky, waiting. No, she would have been with him all along.

And as she tried to breathe and remember his face in his office before everything happened, all she could remember was the blood. All this blood, covering everything her sight had set upon; his battered body; his bruised face; his torn clothes and even her hands. She sighed, all this blood, Mac's blood. He had lost so much she didn't know how he had hung on so long. Her eyes closed for a moment. She was so tired and so alone now. Sure the team was here with her to help her get through this, but he wasn't. That simple, cold empty space left by him was all that really mattered now. He was not with her, and for this reason she would never be the same. She let out a deep painful breath. _But hope remained,_ had said Hawkes. So that's why she was here right now under this bright, shining, night sky; to hope and pray. Though, Sid's was to fault too. She sighed, thinking at the ME, if he hadn't kicked her out of Mac's room, she would still be with him, waiting to see his eyes open, waiting for hope to prevail.

But she couldn't fight against her whole team as they had all wanted her to go and take a break. She breathed out, her chest closed in pain. How could she take a break from her friend? It has been two days now. The most horrible days she had ever faced. Even in Foster care, the life had been tough, but she hadn't been at the verge of losing someone so close to her.

His bruised face and the glimmer of life in the depth of his eyes appeared before her; there was so much pain in his blue ocean eyes. Slowly, her mind went back to that fateful night, the night that changed everything for her, and for him. She swallowed the knot in her throat as the images came back in slow motion; she, enthusiastically exiting the elevator as she was thinking about the surprise she had for him, and then that horrible sound of broken glass as his body had crashed with the main window as those bastards had tossed him through it.

She recalled the sound of their tires screeching on the frozen road as they had delivered their horrible package. She remembered the fear that had seized her body when she had discovered, with pain that it was him and not some dummy sent to threaten them.

Her hands pressed over his bleeding stomach, she had called his name in vain for what seemed an eternity, asking him to hang on...

_...two days earlier..._

His eyes fluttered open to the urging call of his name. A wide smile spread over her lips as she saw the glimmer of life in the depth of his green ocean eyes; he was alive. His bleeding lips moved slowly but his voice was so faint she couldn't hear what he was saying. All her thoughts were focused on his main wounds. _God,_ he was bleeding from so many places, she didn't know if she was really stopping the blood from the main wound. She swallowed a cold breath of air and shot him a small smile to reassure him.

"You gonna be okay, Mac," she said, her own voice struggling with the panic rising inside her. "Just hang on partner, okay?"

He nodded slightly; he didn't want her to be scared. In fact, he was glad they had picked him instead of her for their dreadful plan. He just regretted he had never told her how much she meant to him. He wanted to move but his hands were still cuffed behind his back. Tiny shards cut into his wrists and arms as he lay motionless onto the shattered glass scattering the floor. He tried to speak but his tongue was numb in his mouth, and only a long moan came from his swollen lips as a hot, scorching pain wrenched his side.

His cry of agony tore her heart as her eyes locked with his, not wanting his sight to lose contact with her. Right now, it was the only way for him to stay conscious. But in the depth of his blue pools, she could see the tearing pain soaring as his body was run by slow tremors. _He's in shock_, she realized as her hand pressed against the wound, and slipped as his shaking body trembled more. Quickly, she put her hands back and more blood oozed between her fingers. _It can't be happening!_ Her mind screamed._ It can't be! _The blood was seeping from a large open cut deep under his left ribs.

As the guard came closer to help, without even looking at him, she ordered him to rummage through her coat pocket to find her spare key and uncuff Mac's wrists. He quickly found it, and as she kept her hands on his wound, the guard rolled Mac to his side. His torn shirt opened, and her heart stopped the minute she spotted the macabre slashes on his chest. Covered in a glistening mix of blood and sweat, the tender flesh of his chest was carved with a score: 'COPS 0, US 1'. Anger rose inside her. She wanted to yell and have the bastard that had done that to her partner in front of her. Deep burning rage was consuming her heart as she wanted to kill him and crush him.

The guard unlocked the trapping rings and soon his hands were free. His arms dropped loosely to his sides and as he was gently eased to his back, his head lolled against her legs.

"Hang on, Mac," urged Stella, as his eyes lost their focus for a minute, and she thought she had lost him. But the white glassy shade in his eyes disappeared as soon as his eyes locked with hers. "Hang on," she repeated softly.

"I need you to get my coat off," she stated to the guard.

As he stared at her with surprise, she had to repeat herself, "Do it now!"

Not really sure of what he was doing, the guard pulled on one of her sleeves as she kept her other hand firmly pressed against Mac's wound. As her coat had been pulled off, she asked him to wrap it and lay it over her hands. As he did, she hastily removed her hands to put it back over the coat, hoping the cloth would be enough to stop the flow.

His lips moved again, but only a faint moan came out of his voice, and she watched as he struggled to speak. As he kept trying to talk, she cupped his bruised cheek with her bloody hand, her thumb rubbing his cheek as to try to soothe his pain and calm him, but his gaze was becoming weak, though she could see a strong resolution lingering behind his blue eyes. Her hand tightly pressed over his wound, she bent slightly, her ear next to him.

"What is it Mac?" she whispered, encouraging him to speak.

His warm breath caressed her cheek as faint, whispering words escaped his lips.

"Forgive me Stell... Should... ve..." his voice struggled as blood seeped from his mouth.

Gently, she rubbed the thick, red liquid oozing from his swollen lips. He let out a weary sigh as his eyes blinked from the soaring pain that wrenched his body. His sight was lost for a second as he gazed behind her shoulder to an invisible dot, blinking tiredly.

"Don't talk, Mac. Just hang on for me okay."

She brushed away a small tear that had slipped from his eye and mixed with the blood of his face. She felt his head lean on the palm of her hand, his cold, bleeding cheek warming under her skin. His deep, ocean eyes looked up, locking with hers; clinging to them as if it was his anchor to this world. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she realized that it was, in fact, the only thing that kept him from slipping away.

"...Should have... asked you..." he breathed out, his eyes fluttering weakly. "Sorry..."

"Please Mac, stay with me," she whispered to his ear, sobs choking her voice. "Everything's gonna be okay." Hot tears were now burning her eyes as she realized that he couldn't hold on anymore. "Please..." Salty tears rolled down her cheeks and weakly dripped on his bleeding face.

She bent and wrapped an arm around his neck to support his frail, broken body, and nestled him into her warm embrace.

"Stay with me, Mac," she repeated hoping he was still listening. But when she looked back, his eyes were almost shut. Pain was etched all over his face, and she felt him trembling in her arms as she tightened her hold. The green, ocean sparkle of life of his eyes became glassy as he slowly succumbedto cold darkness, her voice desperately calling his name as his head sagged limply against her.

She remembered how lost she had felt before one of the ME had told her he still had a weak pulse, placing a mask over his mouth and hauling his limp body onto a stretcher.

The ride to the hospital had been filled with anguish and torment as she had witnessed the ME struggled to keep him alive as he had crashed twice before they arrived. Her own heart stopped each time she had watched his line go flat. His bruised hands, freed from the cuffs his assailants had dared to use on him, were limply set on the white sheet of the stretcher. The ME had covered his chest with white dressings already stained by dark, crimson smears of blood as dark, purple bruises were beginning to appear near his sides. His face under the mask was ashen although stainedby spots of dried blood around his left temple and jaw. She remembered the tearing twinge in her gut as she had realized that his skin was even whiter than the sheet. He had lost so much blood.

But then after an infinite ride, they had finally arrived and Mac had been wheeled to surgery. The painful wait had then started, broken only by the regular visit of the nurses wondering if she was okay. Of course she wasn't okay; her best friend had been cut, stabbed, and nearly beaten to death by some kind of barbarians, how could she ever be okay? Then it had struck her that the team didn't know. _Oh god._ She had to tell them. So she had called them. She had already been waiting for more than two hours when she had made her way outside and had called Flack. The call had been quick as she didn't want to miss Mac's doctor if he came out of surgery. As the young detective had coped with the terrible news, he had softly asked her if the others knew. But then, as she had told him he was the first she had called so far, he had suggested that he calls them, and that she should go back to wait for Mac. _Your place is with him right now, Stell,_ he had said with a soft voice. _I can take care of the team, okay?_ _Hang in there._ She was grateful for Don taking charge at the time, though it should have been her job, but without Mac, she had felt it was hard to focus on anything as nothing really mattered anymore.

Sometime later, she didn't remember how long it had been after the call to Flack, but at one point she was in the waiting room, deep in her thoughts. And then the next time she had raised her eyes to the nurses' desk hoping to have news from Mac, she had noticed Lindsay seated next to her, Danny beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders; none of them were talking. As her gaze travelled through the room, she spotted in opposite chairs, a worried Sid talking with Hawkes and Flack nervously pacing the room before them just as Adam entered with a tray full of steaming, coffee cups. The whole team was there, Mac's team. It warmed her heart to see all of them, gathered for him.

She had lowered her eyes, trying to seem deeply focused on the black and white tiles on the floor. She couldn't talk to them. Not now and not like that. She had no answer to bring them. Mac missing, it was obvious they would turn to her to know what to do, but right now she was too lost without him around to answer to them. In her mind, only one thing really mattered; was Mac going to be okay?

As the clock had continued to tick inside the waiting room, she had cursed a billion times at the damn thing. Now, in the twenty first century, everyone had a watch. So, what was the purpose of pinning a big clock, ticking at each second and reminding you that death would inexorably come? It was silly anyway, this was just something she couldn't bear anymore, the wait. All her life had been like that, and she was tired of waiting; waiting to be adopted, waiting to know when her foster parents would be fed up with her and would toss her back into the system, waiting to learn who she really was, waiting to tell Mac that she loved him, waiting to know if the man of her life was going to make it out alive. She was sick of waiting. All her mistakes, all her troubles had come from waiting.

As she was about to stand and snatch the damn clock from the wall to stampit to death, hoping to soothe the burning rage and fear inside of her, a doctor in scrubs pushed the door of the ICU. He walked slowly toward them, putting his green mask down to reveal a salty beard, his forehead beaded in sweat but his face unreadable. _They must learn to do that in med school, _she had thought at the time.

His hands had gathered in a small grip before him as he asked if there was a Mrs Taylor. Flack had already stepped toward the doctor as she had slowly raised and was now coming in their direction.

"There's no MrsTaylor," she had softly answered. "I'm his partner, Detective Bonasera. How is he?"

The doctor had tightened his lips into a grim face before he spoke in a professional tone, and began to list Mac's injuries.

"Well, Detective Bonasera, I'm Dr Shen, Detective Taylor's physician." He paused as he pasted a stern look on his face. "Your partner had sustained some very bad trauma," his deep voice uttered, as he raked his throat. "Besides bruised kidneys and several nasty cuts over his chest and stomach, we were able to fix the three broken ribs, and stopped all internal bleedings..." his voice trailed off as his white greyish brows furrowed.

_All internal bleedings,_ she repeated in her mind as her heart broke in her chest. _They never expected him to survive._ Her eyes shut a second as she realized how close she had been to really losing him this time. But then, her face constricted in worry at the doctor's tone, and she waited for the bad news to come.

"But what worries me really is his head," continued the doctor." Detective Taylor sustained a very bad concussion and his brain has swollen on his left side. It seems the blow inflicted upon him has caused an amount of damage we can't measure yet, like his skull for starters. I will have to run more tests to be sure."

He sighed, leaving some time for Stella to cope with the news. As she didn't speak, he resumed, his eyes looking behind her to the CSI team that had gathered around her as if to protect her from more harm. "To add to that, we tried to stabilize his state, but... we can't be certain until at least forty eight hours."

"What...what are you saying?" she asked, her voice strangled in her throat, fearing the worse.

He let out a heavy sigh. "We won't know before the swelling has reduced, and we can proceed to complementary tests. But, for now, I have the regret to tell you that detective Taylor is in a coma. I'm sorry."

"Coma," the words seeped from her lips like a burning acid. "What...what....he can't...it's not real," she mumbled. "Not Mac... He can't... He's too strong. There's nothing..." her voice trailed off as she felt Flack's hand gently patting her shoulder.

"Stell," he whispered, trying to comfort her.

Her green, glistening eyes locked with his. She could see pain reflected in the depth of his blue eyes too. She turned toward Dr Shen.

"Can we see him?"

The doctor glanced at the nurse that had arrived beside him and who nodded silently.

"The nurses have him being placed in his room, but..." he stopped, checking if he had all their attention. "You must know that we needed to link him to several apparatus' in order to help him breathe."

Stella's heart sank as she listened to the description. What had gone so wrong? Her mind wondered.

"Nelly," continued the doctor as he nodded toward the nurse at his side. "She will lead you to his room. We will proceed to the first test, probably tomorrow. "

"Thank you doctor," answered Flack, his hand slidding to wrap around Stella's arm, to be sure she acknowledged his presence.

Pain and sadness filled the emerald of her eyes as she turned her sight to him. "I'm fine Don, thanks."

"You want us to give you a sec with Mac?"

She nodded as she followed the nurse in silence, not able to utter another word as the team watched her being swallowed by the doors of the ICU. Her heels echoed, lonely, on the hospital's black and creamy tiles. The bitter smell of chloroform teased her nostrils as they walked further into the hallway. Few empty trays laid orderly on shelves, while white sheets were rolled in balls and threw in yellow bins. It was so silent.

"Which aisle are we?" she asked, wondering why it was so quiet.

The nurse turned toward her a sad sight. "I'm sorry, this is a special part of the ICU, only for patient with low response**.**"

"What do you mean by..." her voice trailed off as she realized only people near death were set in this part of the hospital. What were they thinking? She thought angrily. Mac isn't going to give up. Never. Her heart beat faster in her chest. They had to be mistaken, Mac couldn't be put in this aisle. He was going to wake up and be fine, he didn't belong there.

"You can't put him here..."

"This way ma'am," said the nurse, ignoring her words as she turned to her right, and walked into another colorless hallway.

Few minutes later, the nurse stopped in front of a white creamy door. "We hooked him up on different things like an ET tube to a ventilator, so don't be surprised if it looks a bit scarier than what it is, really."

Stella nodded before she pushed open the door, holding her breath, the nurse right behind her.

The first thing she noticed was how hard it was to see him. His body was patchedwith a lot of dressings and several IV lines were coming in and out of his limp arms. The second thing was the horrible whizzing of the ventilator attached to him as a long tube was stuck on his face and was going down his throat. There were so many things surrounding his frail frame that he seemed crushed beneath all this equipment; it was hard to recognize him._ Mac... _Her heart was torn inside. It couldn't be the tough cop, former marine, her strong friend beneath all those lines and bandages that kept him alive. She closed her eyes unable to take a step toward him as the fear of hurting his fragile body submerged her. For a second, she thought she was going to crumble on the ground and never get up, but then, his warm smile came to her mind, and she held on to it, finding the strength to go to him. Whatever terrible things were ahead of them, he needed her, so she would be strong for him, for them, no matter what.

The slow beep coming from the monitor echoed in the silent room as the door closed behind her, the nurse having left her alone. As she neared his bed, she noticed his hands emerging from the white sheet. Gently, she cupped his cold fingers between hers, her lips tightening. It was hard to see him like this. Dark, purple bruises marked his jaw and the lines around his eyes. The left side of his head was entirely hidden under a thick bandage where she could see the dark smear of blood oozing through the white fabric. But what really scared her was the long tube inserted in his mouth, kept in place by tapes, his chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of the whizzing ventilator nearby. He looked so weak and vulnerable, a shadow of the mighty, tenacious man she used to see every day.

_Why?_ She asked to herself. Why did someone have to do that to him? All his life had been dedicated to help people, serve his country and his friends, and there he was...for what? _Life is unfair._ He didn't deserve this, nor she. With all they had suffered before, why can't destiny give them a break? Life had already been so hard on them.

She remembered sitting beside his bed in a cold, hard chair; his hand in hers and waiting. Waiting for him to wake up; it had been two days ago, and she would still be in his room, waiting, if Sid hadn't kicked her out, pretexting they all needed to be with him, and she needed to go take some fresh air. He softly reminded her that she needed to be okay for the time when Mac would wake up. And so, she had agreed to go for a walk, but not before making him swear that he would call her if anything changed in Mac's state, or if he woke up, because they all knew he was going to wake up. He had never let go of any of them. This time was no different. _Mac 's gonna wake up,_ she repeated to herself as she raised her eyes to the sky over her.

It was a clear night without moon though. Bright stars were shining like small beacons of hope sewed onto the black veil of the universe. Yes, Mac would wake up. She let go a heavy sigh, and then, they would all be okay. She stood up and headed toward the lighted hospital aisle, leaving the small park behind her. In her way up, her heels crunched the flaky snow covering the small path going from the park to the hospital. Taking a deep breath, she entered the bright corridors, passed the Christmas tree set for the sick kids and walked toward his room. Even without looking up she knew her way and entered his room. Bathed in a dim light, a silent atmosphere filled the place. She nodded to Sid as he stood up and took out his glasses, setting his book on the nightstand near Mac's bed.

"What did you read him this time?" she asked, trying to make conversation and hoping Sid wouldn't notice she had cried, although with this dim light she doubted he could clearly see her eyes.

Since Mac had been in this bed, she had tried her best to talk to everyone who was with her. She hoped that somehow, he could hear them, and with their voices as a beacon, he would find his way back to her. So far, he hadn't responded, but she wasn't about to lose hope. No, not with Mac.

Sid smiled, "Oh, it's just a story I read to my granddaughter last night, and since I talked to him about her, I thought that, maybe, he'll enjoy some of this mystery. You know how he likes to uncover the truth." He grinned tiredly and his eyes connected with hers. "How are you?"

"I'm okay Sid, thanks."

"You look more and more like him every day," he stated, sadness hidden in his voice. "And I don't mean just the stubborn way he lies when he isn't fine."

Stella swallowed the lump in her throat as her eyes went to Mac's pale face.

"He'll be okay," he murmured softly. "Mac's a fighter, he'll come back for you."

She smirked. "Why would he come back for me?... I mean there's nothing... We..." her weary voice trailed off as Sid's eyes told her she shouldn't try to argue, not with him.

"Stella," he began gently. "What you two have, this special bond, call it like you want, friendship, love, I don't mind, that's between you and him. But there's one thing I'm sure, although he and I are very good friends, he would not be hanging so dearly to life if it was for me, but for you, that's another story," he continued with a weak smile. "So believe me when I say that he knows the pain you feel, and when he'll wake up, it will be because of you."

He stood up and walked toward her. She locked her eyes with his as he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a warm hug. If it had been a regular day, she would have grinned and stepped back, to show that everything was okay, or that whatever happened, she was taking care of it. But right now, she felt empty and drained; her strength having vanished the moment Mac's eyes had closed on the ground covered with shattered glass. So, she let herself sink into his arm; it was good to feel support again. But deep inside, she craved for Mac's arms, the only embrace that could at the same time, reassure her, and give her more strength than the moment before. Her forehead dropped on Sid's shoulder.

"He'll be okay," he repeated softly into her ears as he gently stroke her back. "He'll be okay, but will you?" he asked as he broke their hug and watched the deep pain lingering beneath her green, glistening, flushedeyes.

"I don't know how to be alright without him Sid," she dropped as she stepped back and took a deep breath.

He nodded silently, knowing that no word could bring an answer to that. Then, after a moment, he decided to speak.

"Do you want me to stay?"

She shook her head, a fake smile painted on her face.

"No. I'll see you in the morning." She stepped toward Mac's bed and looked at the heart monitor.

"The nurse said he's doing okay so far. One day, still, and he'll be on the safe side of this road."

Stella nodded silently, staring at the ashen skin of his face. Sid sighed as he turned and exited the room, shaking his head lightly. Whatever happened it was up to him now.

As the door closed, a heavy silence filled the room only broken by the faint, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat. Pulling off her coat, she slumped tiredly into the chair opposite to the medical equipment, her eyes not leaving his face. His head, sunk into a fluffy pillow, she could see his eyes were still desperately closed. She swallowed, it was so unusual to see him like this, sleeping. Not sleeping, she corrected as pain wrenched her heart, but coma. She closed her eyes as the word echoed painfully inside her mind and sighed, her hands wrapping around his lifeless fingers.

"Don nailed the bastards that attacked you, Mac," she started, breaking the silence, bitterness rising beneath her words.

_We got the three of them, Stella, _he had told her the day before when he came to visit Mac.

_Three, _she had replied with disgust. Three, against, one, cuffed man. Tears had almost rolled down her cheek. _Those bastards have to pay_,_ make them pay Don,_ she wanted to tell him, but instead she had remained silent.

_Yeah, three, _he had repeated, as anger had filled his voice,_ those stupid, scum bags left the baseball bat in their trunk, and... _She remembered the hesitation in his voice._ ...Mac... Mac's blood was still on it. So we got everythin' to lock them up for life._Then, his voice had took a softer tone._ I promise you Stell, those sick bastards ain't gonna escape the system. I swear to you, t__hey won't be able to hurt him anymore._

_The worse is already done, _she had thought as her eyes had closed, the image of her bleeding partner, his voice trying to reach her between gargles, still engraved in her mind.

"We have everything to keep them in lock up for the rest of their miserable life." She sighed hoping Mac could hear her, and find some comfort in their arrest.

Since the first night, she had spent with him in this hospital, she had made an obligation to keep him up-to-date as she knew he would like to be kept in the loop.

"He and Danny found them in one of the hide-outs of Henry's band," she paused. "And Lindsay matched their boots with..." her voice trailed off, her sight wandering over his patched chest slowly rising with the help of the ventilator. She took a deep breath, watching his closed eyes. "...that matched with your bruises."

The images of his battered chest, stained by dark, bluish bruises, after he had been cleaned up by the nurses appeared before her. She hadn't been able to take the pictures, her hands shaking a bit too much, and well, it was Mac, so she couldn't. But she had made clear to anyone that he wouldn't be processed without her being with him. Though she trusted her team, his team, she hadn't wanted him to be alone for the process. She wanted him to feel at any moment that he still belonged to this world, that he was awaited and needed.

_Beat to death_, had been the words used by Don when he had called her the second time as she was in the park. He had tried his best to keep her up-to-date as she had remained in the hospital since Mac had been admitted._ They said they wanted to give us a message, and Mac was their perfect messenger, _Don's voice echoed. She closed her eyes as she couldn't suppress the flashes of images of him being kicked on the ground, unable to defend himself as his hands were cuffed behind his back. _But Stell, I swear if you had seen these guys you would have been so proud of Mac. _

_I'm always proud of him, _her own voice echoed. _One of them had a broken nose, _continued Don, his voice filled with anger,_ and their so-called boss had still the traces of a choke hold around his neck. According to Hawkes who process them, they still had Mac's DNA all over them. Gee, Stell, even cuffed and in bad shape he managed to pull a hell of a fight. _Her eyes went to Mac's face as she cupped his right cheek, grazing the subtle forms over his skin. It was so like him. Even when the odds were against him and the fight totally unequal, he managed to bang at the door of destiny and return the situation. Except this time, he was still lingering between the world of life and death.

"They'll never be able to hurt you again, Mac. Never," she stated as she rested her forehead over his cold hand. She needed to feel him, to touch him, to be sure he was still with her. She wanted him to know that he wasn't alone in this dark world, which he could come back to any time, she would still be waiting for him. As she left her thoughts drift off, she slowly slumbered in a cold, dreamless world.

_**xxx**_

_December 23__rd_

The world was dark around her, but it didn't really matter; she had lost the most precious thing in her life and didn't know now how to go on. She blinked as the darkness blurred and slowly faded to be replaced by a bright, shining light, voices talking somewhere near her.

_Maybe we should go..._a woman voice said.

_Nah, it's fine. Stella and Mac would like to see her, trust me, _a male voice answered.

_Danny, if it was you there..._the voice trailed off,_...I..._

_Listen Linds, Mac's gonna be okay. We're all gonna be okay. Trust me when I tell you he's gonna wake up soon. I've never seen him sleep so much, so at one point he's gonna burst out and yell at whoever had left him sleepin' that much. Tell ya, Big Mac will wake up when he'll be tired of it._

She blinked once more, shaving the sleep still weighing in her eyes. She thought she had heard Danny and Lindsay, but as her head rose, she found herself groggily aware she had fallen asleep talking to Mac, her head resting on his hand. With a tired hand, she brought back some messy curls behind her ears as the door was pushed open. She watched with a faint smile as Danny stepped in, a big travel bag hanging from his right shoulder.

"Hey Stell. How's he doin'?"

She shook her head slightly as her eyes went back to her partner. "No change, Danny." Her heart sank; it was hard to admit that.

"Well, someone wanted to see him," he stated with a grin as he nodded to the open door.

Lindsay entered, Lucy comfortably snuggled in her mother's arms.

"I'm sure he'll be happy," Stella answered, recalling their talk as they were in the hallway, while Lindsay walked toward her with a big smile.

Slowly, she nestled a sleeping Lucy in the crook of Mac's right arm and wrapped his arm around the small baby. She smiled at the lovely picture of the godfather and the goddaughter sleeping together.

"How are you doing?" asked Lindsay as she patted Stella's arm.

Stella gave her a weak smile, "I'm fine. Don't worry for me."

Lindsay frowned at her friend's answer, but didn't say a word. If it had been Danny there, she knew she wouldn't have been able to hold on but only for him. Although Mac and Stella weren't together as a couple, everyone at the lab knew that their bond was closer than a simple friendship. Obviously, only the main protagonists seemed to ignore their own feelings toward each other. _Sad,_ thought Lindsay, especially now that they couldn't reach to each other. She looked out the window. The snow was falling in heavy bundles again. Christmas was in two days. _Holidays are for family and friends_, she thought, as she watched with pride of her husband coming closer. His fight to recover his legs had been scattered with long and tough moments, but now he was fine. She hoped that it would be the same for Mac. It was hard, in fact, to come to the lab knowing their boss, their friend was lying in a hospital bed, hanging to life.

Danny lolloped toward the nightstand, still careful with his leg, and unzipped his bag. With a concerned look toward his sleeping boss, he pulled out a small object. He fixed it on the small table and pressed on a button, turning toward Stella a childish grin as he stepped aside to reveal his surprise.

Stella mirrored his grin as she stared at the small, glowing Christmas tree, its multicolored light balls blinking in the room.

"Well," began Danny awkwardly. "We thought it'd be nice for his room, ya know. It's Christmas, after all." He stuffed his hands in his jeans' pockets, his blue, piercing eyes searching Lindsay to reassure him that what he had said was okay. She nodded slightly with a small grin.

"Thanks," replied Stella. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see it when he wakes up."

Danny exchanged a small smile with his wife as Stella bent toward Lucy and smiled. The little girl, snuggled against his side, had wrapped her small fingers around Mac's pinkie, as if, even in her sleep, she had recognized her godfather.

Lindsay grinned as Stella looked at her in wonder.

"They do that a lot when they're together," she explained, her hands on her hips. "We noticed it a few weeks ago when Mac came to bring her a new gift." She stopped, her eyes rolled back. "He kinda used to stop by just to drop a toy or a teddy bear off for her every week." Her lips curled into a smile. "Talk about a spoiled child."

"Yeah," said Stella. "Mac always takes his responsibility very seriously, especially if it's toward his family."

Lindsay grinned. "So one day, he came to drop a small, pink dog."

"Pink dog," cut Stella her eyes twinkling at the idea of her best friend buying a pink dog.

"Yeah, don't ask," replied Lindsay, her hand shaving down the air. "So, he went to say hi to his goddaughter and when I arrived in her room after a couple of minutes, I noticed the two of them talking to each other, well more like babbling for Lucy, and her hands tightly wrapped around his pinkie. I found it funny and really cute, but when it was time for him to leave, Mac had some troubles getting rid of her." She laughed lightly. "Can you imagine, her small, chubby fingers were so firmly clutched around his that he had to pull them off, one by one?"

"Yeah," continued Danny. "You should have seen his face, almost in panic mode when she started to cry as he was getting free." Danny's smile widened as his eyes shone from the memory. "I never saw Big Mac so lost than when he had looked down at her. She had opened her eyes and in a second he was... What's the word..." Danny seemed to look up before he glanced to Lindsay. "...paralyzed?"

"Paralyzed is a good word," replied Lindsay with a mischievous grin. "Although stupefied, or frozen are good too." Her grin reached her ears.

Stella smiled at the image of Mac trapped by a small, defenseless baby. She felt some of her tension being lifted as Lucy curled up and giggled in her sleep, her small, chubby fingers tightly clenched around her partner's. She hoped that somehow the little girl would help him to find his way back. He had to. He was Mac Taylor after all.

An hour later, Lindsay and Danny finally left as they had to feed Lucy, and Stella, once again, found herself alone with Mac. She had always liked to be with him or feeling him around and sometimes her thoughts had even fantasized on what would happen if she was taking their friendship a step further. Would he have rejected her? Or would it have been the start of something new? She sighed as she leaned her head on his hand, finding some comfort at the soft touch of his skin against her cheek, and closed her eyes, hoping that maybe, next time she would open her eyes she would be to find him staring at her, his wide, charming smile shining his face.

A few hours later, she woke up as two nurses entered his room and unplugged him from the ventilator. She was about to ask why, when one of the nurses caught her anxious sight.

"The last test confirmed he can breathe on his own now," she said, as they pushed the medical equipment into a corner, and checked the other monitors. Then, they quietly left the room, leaving her alone again.

The day had come and gone, and yet, he was still in this dark and cold jail that doctors called coma. Through the window and half hidden by the grey towers in front of her, the late, winter sun was stained by small, crimson drops, as if, even it mourning the loss of its bravest son. She quickly looked down at her watch and sighed. Then her eyes went back to him, her gaze caressing his pale, bruised face. With a weak smile, she resumed her talk about what Sid and Hawkes had said when they had come to visit him. Even if he might have heard them, she just needed to speak and make him know that he wasn't alone, she was there.

She padded to the window, watching as the last crimson rays faded into the appearing night, the first bright stars beginning to gleam onto the dark sky of the night. _One more day._ Today had been one more day without him, though he had passed the threatening deadline, he hadn't woken up. She knew he was going to wake up, but deep down, a childish fear was clenching at her heart like a leech.

What if he couldn't? What if his swollen brain made it impossible for him to wake up? What if he never woke up? A cold glacial shudder ran down her body. She didn't want to think about that, but soon, people would start to ask these questions. Even talking about his replacement or something like that. She closed her eyes, unable to keep a small tear from rolling down as her mind was sinking into a turmoil of sickening fears. Her arms wrapped around herself, hoping to get some warmth as she stared at the glacial night ahead.

She whispered to the falling sun almost gone. "Please, make him be okay, make him to wake up."

She just wanted a sign. Damn it. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and all she wanted was for him to give her a sign, just one small sign.

Then, too tired, she slumped back in the chair, continuing her restless watch. Her eyes widened suddenly, as green, ocean pools were staring at her. His eyes were half opened, but she could swear he was looking at her.

"God, Mac," she said, sobs in her voice.

Then, his eyes fluttered closed and for a minute she wondered if she hadn't dreamed it. A warm, comforting feeling invaded her; Mac was waking up. A wide smile spread over her face. He was waking up.

_...TBC...one more to go!_

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_**A/N: **So now it's time to tell me what you think of this by reviewing, and get ready for the conclusion, soon :) Thanks again for reading!_  
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_*ET tube is short for __endotracheal tube_


	3. And I found love

**A/N: **There we are, at the conclusion of this short story. I would like to dedicate this chapter to all the people in the world, who, in their life, had or have to face terrible moments. Just know, that whatever happens, Hope will remain, no matter what!!!

To all who reviewed, LILKENNY, Andorian Ice Princess-AIP, snow6835, Rosa Atrus, jjsaywat97, blackrose538, neuhuli, rocksmacked, gary4ever-1725, StellaBonaseraTaylor, Miyukiseta, DLsmackedLUVER _(if you register, next time I'll be glad to reply to your review)_, read and put this story on alert, a great thank you, you guys rock!

And to my Beta, which manage to deal with so many things, and the editing of Darkness closing in and this Christmas fic, huge thanks! You girl are amazing!!

**Summary:** Few days before Christmas tragedy strikes the CSI team as one of their own is taken from them. Will Christmas season bring them the miracle they're all waiting for? Angsty Smacked.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, beside the characters I created for this story. CSI NY belongs to CBS and Jerry Bruckeimer.

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**Chapter 3: ...**and I found love.

Doctors and nurses came in and out of his room. In a quiet silence, Stella nervously waited for one of them to tell her she hadn't dreamed it; he had woken up. But it seemed it take them forever to look at his chart, compare it to his monitors and check his eye movement as Dr Shen shoved a small light into them. Her hands joinedon her lap; she was waiting, again, and sighed.

Then, Dr Shen waved at the nurses to exit Mac's room and walked toward Stella. Her eyes locked with his, waiting for the right answer while her heart began to beat louder behind her temples. He sighed as he put a grim face, his gray beard giving him a gloomy appearance.

"I saw him blink," she stated as to counter the bad news she felt coming. "It has to be good, right?" her hands tightened around each other. She could feel her chest tightening and her breath becoming short.

"I'm sorry detective, but he's not waking up," dropped Dr Shen, his voice now slow and caring to let the word sink into her mind.

_What?_ It had to mean he was waking up, she saw his eyes open.

"I saw him looking at me," she repeated, trying to convince Dr Shen. "He was awake, and..." her voice trailed off, she wanted to believe he was coming back. "He's..." she began, her voice now struggling with the deep, sad realization, that maybe, he wasn't. _No, _her heart cried in pain, it was Mac, he was going to come back. It had to be. She took a slow breath as her shoulders sagged wearily.

"Probably a reflex," continued the doctor with a soft voice, obviously used to his patient's denial. "It happens sometimes."

_It happens,_ her mind countered in rage as her eyes darted furious sparkles. _No._ _Nothing happens without meaning_, that's what she had learned with Mac. "Accident happens," she replied angrily. "But not with Mac! There's always a good reason. I'm telling you, I saw him. His eyes were open, and he was looking straight backat me." She glared at the doctor. "I didn't dream it!"

Her furious gaze dared him to say otherwise. She knew that, deep down, she was driven again by her heart, but it was Mac. She couldn't lose hope that easily just because his doctor said this was a 'reflex', hell no.

As she talked, she cupped Mac's right hand into hers, hoping it would trigger him to open his eyes again, but sadly nothing happened. Had she really dreamed it? She couldn't believe the doctor, she just couldn't.

"You're tired and..." began the doctor, trying to find excuses for what she had seen.

"I'm not crazy if that's what you mean! I was awake when it happened. I just know it was him doing it, I can feel it." Her sight wandered to Mac's bruised face, expecting to see him open his eyes and shout at the doctor to prove him wrong. _What are you waiting for, Mac? I saw you. C'mon, just show him I'm right._

The doctor sighed as he rubbed his beard unconsciously. "I'm sorry Detective Bonasera. I know you are yourself a scientist, and he's your friend, but you know as much as I do, that I checked everything I had to, before coming to this explanation."

She nodded slightly, her gaze lost on the creamy tiles on the floor, like a scoldedchild the day he was caught not handing in his homework.

"I can't stop you to hope," he continued. "It's even the best thing you may have right now," he paused, waiting for her eyes to look up. "But your partner has sustained a terrible head trauma. I'm sorry to have to tell you that, but with comatose people and this kind of trauma, people rarely wake up, and if or when they do, they're...changed." His voice lowered on the last words.

"You don't know Mac," she replied, her tone now almost pleading. "He'll wake up, I could bet my life on it, and he'll be alright." Her gaze went back on his sleeping form, caressing his bruised face and slow rising chest.

Dr Shen sighed, "I hope you're right," he said as he patted her shoulder before he exited the room, visibly giving up trying to convince her, leaving a broken Stella, alone with an unconscious Mac.

Her sight wandered to the window, staring at the frozen, flaky snow stuck on the bottom of the glass. The sun, tired of the short winter day, was already taking its leave from this world and was about to disappear, its faint, gleaming, orange light bathing Mac's room.

Careful not to move the dressing around his wrist, she brought his cold hand to her lips and kissed it warmly. She was so tired. A lonely tear rolled down her cheek as she nestled his hand over her chest, hoping he could feel her heart beating for him. Mac was going to wake up. He had to. Because if he didn't, well, she had no idea what she would do. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was lost without him. She sighed as she kept his hand close to her heart and sleep slowly took her away.

_**xxx**_

All around him was dark and cold, the world, his world, was only a dark void where he was falling, since the beginning of time, and for the rest of the eternity. He knew, somehow, that his world hadn't always been that way, but it was hard to remember, as there was nothing besides the glooming darkness to trigger a memory.

Loneliness and despair were his only companionsin this world as he continued to fall, floating lightly. Even his body wasn't his anymore as he couldn't see his hands or feet. It was like nothing existed besides his mind. And yet, hope remained; the only thing that kept him going on; hope.

A faint, hollowwhisper grazed at his soul, trying to shake his memory, but it was too far, too hollow for him to get a grip on it; so he let go for a while, floating again before he felt something else coming. At first, it seemed it was a quiet sleeping force; it reminded him what life had to be at the beginning of things. The small sleepy gray cloud came close to him for a while, and then it was taken away from him. He tried to scream at those who had taken that small life from him, ask them to bring back that faint reminiscence of hope, but no sound came from him, and he was left alone with the darkness again.

From time to time, the darkness was shaved away by another presence. A faint shape emerging from this lonely obscurity at first, the presence soon began to be the only constantthing that kept his hope alive, keeping him from slipping away for good. As centuries passed, the presence grew on him like he was bound to it. Soon, he craved more than anything to go there and joined that comforting presence, but where was there?

Confusion and loneliness had settled inside his heart as a word popped between the thick darkness; _Stella._ Like a shining beacon standing on the shore of life, he followed the word, turned it inside his mind, letting its softness invade his senses and soul, heal him. And then, he saw it, a faint gleaming light straight ahead, calling him.

Driven by hope and the sweet feeling the word produced inside him, he decided to follow the gracinglight. But as soon as he entered the light, bathed by its shining rays, a bright scorching light began to burn his whole being. On fire, it was too hard to stay, so he retreated into the comforting dark universe he used to know and wished he had never tried to follow the light. The light meant hurt and pain, he could feel it. He would never try to go back there. There was only pain, he hadn't found the warmth of the word he was looking for, only the cold bitterness of an angry, bright light had welcomed him, and now he wasn't about to make the same mistake. Had his hope being misplaced? Had the word been a false hope all along? _Perhaps bait? _Playing with him to hurt him at the end? Anger and confusion filled his being. Where should he go now? He didn't like this obscurity, and yet it seemed the only place he could stay without being hurt. _Do I belong there, to the darkness_? A sense of gloom and loneliness submerged him, and he felt his soul fading more into this obscure universe. Fear, would he let himself being submerged by it? Was it fear to stay here or to go over there, toward the bright light? Why wasn't it simpler? Should he abandon hope?

_**xxx**_

_December 24__th_

The nurse frowned as she checked his vitalsonce again. The man in the bed seemed to be more than a friend to the woman, sitting by his side; she hadn't left him, even a minute, since he had been brought here. She sighed, she knew the symptoms; love, and yet, the woman was really careful not to show it to everyone around. A sad smile grazed at the nurse's face; _did she really think that people won't notice? _She nodded slowly as she plugged a new IV in her patient's arm. Her sight rested on his battered face for some time, noticing every bruise lining his face. She could understand the woman distress; the man's face covered with dark purple, bluish bruises, looked like a battlefield on itself, as small gashes drew lines from his forehead to his temples and to his jaw. The men that had done that to him had been brutal and evil. They probably didn't expect him to survive. She sighed again, as _if being in a coma could mean survival. _The woman watched her as she quickly wrote something on the patient's chart, a deep line creasing her forehead; worries.

From her seat, Stella watched quietly as the old, blond nurse wrote something on Mac's chart before she glanced at her.

"Nothing to worry," told her the nurse as she had probably noticed her worried look. "He's just running a small fever. Just a small readjustment to his IV and he should be fine."

Stella nodded lightly as the nurse exited the room. She checked her watch, 11 am. _Four days, Mac. Four days you've left us. Four days without my best friend, without seeing you smile, without hearing your soft, comforting voice. _She swallowed the lump in her throat. She could feel the treatening tears ready to roll down her cheek, but she couldn't break down. Not now. She needed to be strong for him. So, she took a slow, deep breath and softly pressed on her heavy eyelids. She turned a pair of red, tired eyes toward his frail shape, rising at the sound of the ventilator.

"Today it's Christmas Eve, Mac," she spoke softly, rubbing tenderly his cheek. "Time for a miracle; like you use to do." She smiled weakly, as if, despite his closed eyes, he could see her. "I'm counting on you, partner..." She paused, her soft fingers warming his cold skin. "I'm counting on you, Mac."

She gave his sleeping face another tired smile before she bent over him; her lips brushed his bruised forehead, avoiding the black stitches closing the gash over his left eye, where she gently laid a warm kiss. Lazily, she pulled back a small strand of damp, brown hair messily stuck on his forehead. His face was clammy under her fingers, and so white, that even the sheets looked more alive than him.

She cursed Henry's band and destiny for taking away the most precious thing she had in life, the words of Dr Shen echoing like sharp blades in her mind; _people rarely wake up... and if they do... they're...changed._

She swallowed the deep lump in her throat; she wanted to believe Mac was different. All his life he had fought for what he believed, striving to achieve it with his heart, to protect it. She couldn't believe that on the threshold of death he would surrender without a fight. _No. Not Mac Taylor. Not him. Never. _Her sight wandered to his frail form sank into the fluffy blankets. The tube down his throat had been removed, and now she could see the amountof bruises on his face. Dark, purple spots turning into a deep, brownish yellow were shadinghis left side, though, most of it was hidden by a thick white dressing. The same gloomy colors appeared at the base of his right jaw, and she wondered how he had managed to talk to her after he'd been flungthrough the window. From the color, the size and the place of the bruises, the team had deduced the force used, and that tool..._God,_ it was no tool, only instruments for torture, as they had beaten him with a baseball bat._ A baseball bat,_ she closed her eyes. The force of the blow had fractured his skull on the left side, making some liquid flow into his brain and driving him here, to this comatose state. She could still recall the way Sid had looked at her after the news of his injuries had been known, the shadow of fear and gloom lingering in his eyes. The ME had examined a lot of dead people with the same kind of head injury in his life and she knew that everyone at the lab had been thinking the same thing, but none had dared to utter it aloud. How had he managed to survive to all that?

Her stomach churned, remembering Dr Shen's list of his injuries; three of his ribs had been broken in several places, although luckily none had punctured his lungs; a bruised kidney, very painful but which should slowly heal without furhter complications; the stab in his left side had, God knows how, avoided any vital organs; and although he had lost a great amount of blood, he was still there, clinging to life. As a stunned Dr Shen had explained, besides his swollen brain, his body had miraculously resisted to the deadly beating. A small smile had grazed her lips at the comment. Once again, Mac's resilience had beat the odds, and she was thankful for that great miracle in itself, but now she wanted one more. She wanted him to wake up. She wanted things to get back to normal. She wanted to let him know that he wasn't alone, and that she cared about him, that he was loved.

She sighed, and for the first time in her life, she joined her hands together, her elbows resting on the sheet near his limp hand. She didn't know if she was doing it right, but she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against her joined hands and prayed. She prayed that Mac came back to her, that he found his way home and finally, she prayed that he would be okay.

"Come back, Mac," she murmured in the silent room. "I'm here for you, as long as you need, I will wait. Just remember, I'm waiting for you."

A painful sigh escaped her lips as she caught the sight of a piece of the white dressing, covering his chest and emerging from under the sheet. Her anger rose immediately. Henry's scum bags had managed to trap Mac, but now they were all in jail. She closed her eyes again, the image of Mac's bleeding body burning her eyes as she recalled the wicked message etched on his bruised chest while she had listened to his slurringvoice fading away. She took a deep breath; hopefully, the doctor had said that the scars would eventually disappear. She was grateful for that small news as she knew it would have become another scar for him to bear; _like he hadn't enough already._ Her warm hand caressed the side of his face before her fingers found their way into his disheveled hair. She smiled even though he couldn't see her, but that small feeling of his skin and damp hairs under her fingers was enough to give her hope.

"I need you, Mac. Please come back to me," she pleaded, his hand still carefully nestled over her heart.

She quickly withdrew her hand from his face as she heard the door open, and carefully laid his hand on the white sheet. Her eyes widened as she spotted Danny, his arms full of Christmas gifts and Lindsay, cuddling a smiling Lucy, on his tail.

"What are you doing here?" she asked surprised, a small frown creasing her forehead as Danny laid his things on the floor, against Mac's nightstand.

"Morning to you too," Danny grinned as Lindsay gave him Lucy and pulled Stella into a warm hug.

Stella frown deepened. "It's Christmas Eve and..." her voice trailed off as the door was once again pushed open, and Hawkes and Sid, their arms full of packages, entered Mac's room.

"Hey Stella," threw Hawkes as he set his packages into a corner of the room and came to hug Stella, Sid right behind him, waiting for his turn to wrap his arms around her.

"Hawkes what on earth..." she began as they pulled apart, but once again her voice died in her throat as a smiling Adam and a whistling Flack stepped into Mac's room, bags hanging freely at their sides.

"Guys, what is this about? I thought all of you had plans," she finally managed to say as they all looked at her with boyish grins painted on their faces.

Hawkes glanced at his friends and then at Stella. "Well, since Mac can't come to our Christmas Party, we thought we would bring Christmas to him." He nodded toward the sleeping form of his friend. "Maybe the feeling of being home will bring him back to us, who knows?" his brows arched in wonders.

"But, what about your families? You should be with them," she enquired, not happy if they had put down everything.

"You and Mac are our family," replied Lindsay, with a warm wink. "It's why we're here."

Stella took a deep breath as she felt her heart swell from the sudden joy filling her soul and her eyes watered, but she managed to keep the wet drops at bay. She wouldn't break down before them. "Thanks guys. I'm sure Mac would be happy for what you're doing."

"You know Stell, it's nothin' really," said Danny. "In all these years, Mac has saved our asses more than once. If it hadn't been for him, none of us would be standing here today." He looked at the small assembly gathered around his boss' bed, their eyes all sending back his words with a smile and a small nod. "And besides, we wanted to be with you guys... you know, breakin' some protocol while he's still asleep." A wide grin spread over his lips. "It's our last opportunity to mess around with him not goin' bossy on us."

"Yeah," intervened Adam, with a boyish grin. "I brought paper planes."

Everyone started into a laugh as he pulled a small, paper plane from his bag, and Lucy, catching a sight of the small toy, tried to reach for it with her chubby arms.

"Okay people," said Sid as he clasped his hands together before he rubbed them. "Let's get started."

Around Stella, everyone began to unzip bags and packages and started to decorate the cold, white, hospital room; hanging here a blue glowing lights or an orange one; pinning there a red smiling Santa or a green, pine crown; stuffing near Mac's bed a small CD player.

Flack winked at Stella with a charming smile as he gave her a warm hug to the sound of 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town.' "We bribed the nurses, don't worry."

She nodded slowly. "Thanks."

"Don't talk 'bout it, Stell," his eyes set on her tired face; his mind wondered for a moment how much she could take before she crumbled to the floor. "We're all happy to be with you guys," he continued. Today should have been a day of joy, and he and the team intended to make it happened for her, to boost her hopes and shake Mac's mind as he was sure Mac would do his best to come back if he could hear them, all gathered around him. He smiled. "We wouldn't have thought of it being Christmas without you and Mac, you know."

Stella didn't talk, but he saw in her eyes how much their presence had already boosted her, a tiny sparkle of hope now back in her eyes.

"Here," cut Lindsay, as she handed a small, blue, sport bag to Stella. "Some change of clothes. I know you've been borrowing the nurses' locker room these last four days. But here you'll find lots of things to freshen up."

"Thanks Linds, but I can't. I have to..."

"We'll stay with him Stella," cut Sid, as his hands slightly pressed on her shoulders. "He'll be in good hands. You know us, right?"

Stella swallowed the knot in her throat. Of course she knew she could trust any of them, it wasn't the problem. She just didn't feel she could go far from him without abandoning him. That night, that fateful night, she had let him go home alone although he was tired. If she had been with him, then, maybe she could have helped him. But she hadn't, and there he was, lying limply in this bed, fighting death, out of reach for any help she could provide; in a coma. How could she leave him? The short walk from the other night had been the only time. And when she had used the nurses' locker room it had always been when they were taking him for some tests, otherwise she wouldn't have left him alone. Hell, Dr Shen had just not allowed her to go with him for the PET scan and the MRI,otherwise she wouldn't have left him at all; those being the only times she had left him with someone else.

She sighed as Sid gently drove her away, his hand on the small of her back. Near the door, he gave her the small bag.

"You need it, Stella. Not just for you, but for him as well."

She nodded weakly as he opened the door for her, and saw a few nurses and doctors ambling in the corridor. She contemplated the busy world she had severed herself from, before she began to walk toward the nurses' locker room. There, she would be able to get changed, and maybe take a quick shower. She wasn't leaving him for long, she repeated to herself as her feet brought her before the locker room. She would be back in no time. _Wait for me, Mac._

_**xxx**_

It was hard to remember where he was coming from. The dark gloomy shadows surrounding him were oppressing, trying to swallow him at the first break of his defense. He could feel their pressing urge enjoininghim to let go, to surrender to them. But he couldn't. Instead, he fought, with all his will and hope. He wasn't about to let go, not without knowing what was beyond the light. He knew that he was missing something important, something that made him whole and strong, and that thing was close, he could feel it within his grasp, and yet unable to reach it. It was just so frustrating.

Then, the small gleam of hope reappeared, although this time the cloud shonea soft, orange light contrasting deeply with the black void that trapped him. Unsure of why he was doing it, he walked toward the cloud that seemed to have a life on its own as it floated toward him as well. Surprised at first, he stopped but then resumed his course as a sudden urge of holding and protecting the cloud filled his being. The little thing giggled as his soul merged with it. A small surge of dazzling happiness filled him as he began to feel the cloud delighted of being with him. He liked that cloud, he realized.

Then, a loud rumbling shook the darkness. A maelstrom of voices and music was heard, and he braced himself from the deafening noise, waiting for the unstoppable wave that would come and submerge him. But nothing came. Instead the loud rumbling began to slowly subside, and he finally could distinguish voices, talks and words. Lots of words repeated, like; trust, miracle, home...he wondered a moment what the last one meant, it felt like an old familiar feeling around that word; home. And then, in the middle of all those words, he heard it once, then twice, and then repeated again and again. _Stella!_ So, this word had a lot of meaning for the voices too. Maybe it was a magic word, though, another one was repeated as well; _Mac._ This one was weird. Somewhere, at another time of what his life had been, he felt like he used to know it, like the former, he had the feeling both were important to him, but not in the same way. _Are they names? Or places that I should go to? Things maybe?_ It was so confusing, and yet reassuring that these words could mean something to him, finally a small piece of the puzzle was coming back to him.

The voices dimmed suddenly as if someone had turned them down, although he could hear them, muffled and lingering faintly between the murky darkness. Was he going to be alone again? But then, he heard it: the most beautiful thing in the world as his soul was filled with hope and joy at the same time; Stella. He remembered that this word made him smile and laugh, making him happy when he was sad. Voices talked more, but now he could distinguish Stella's voice from the others. A small, blurryimage appeared like a flash. Green, emerald eyes surrounded by golden, curly hair and twinkling, teasing playful, sparkles gleaming inside those giant green pools; he felt like he had tried to find those forever. His fear vanished the second he remembered that the eyes belonged to the same word he craved to find, to Stella. Someone he cared for, enough to feel lost without it.

And then, far from him, between the obscure darkness, a faint twinkling light glowed. It scared him to go toward it as light meant pain and hurt. But this time the word, Stella, seemed to be there also, near the light. Should he go? Should he risk getting hurt again? He contemplated the idea of staying, but it meant staying forever in this obscure void. Fear crept inside him, but he had to try, even if it meant hurt and pain. He was about to go toward the light when he felt the ghostly tentacles of the darkness ensnare his soul, crawling into his mind, trying to keep him with them. The small light then began to fade as he was pulled back toward the darkness.

He screamed as images of what had been his life appeared, flashing before him, warning him against the light; he saw all the pain he had suffered, the losses of the one he had loved, the mistakes he had made. And then, it exploded in his mind, Stella. He had made a mistake with her too. His soul trembled from the sudden realization of who she was. She was everything to him, but he hadn't told her. And now, she was going to be alone as he had been without Claire. That memory wrenched his soul. He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't abandon her. He knew now, he loved her. No, he couldn't surrender to the darkness.

Determination filled his mind and suddenly the losses and pain were replaced by images of joy; he remembered holding his smiling goddaughter, Lucy; his friendship with his team, and the caring gaze of his partner, Stella. His will stronger than ever, he writhed in the arms of the darkness and felt the invisible tentacles release their grip. Then, he took a long stride as the ghostly arms parted from his soul and lost their pray. Rushing toward the light, a loud beating echoed in his mind, pounding and hammering madly until he realized it was his own heart. Maybe the light was his exit? He hoped.

Approaching, from the small gleaming light, the pain began to return, teasing at first, it quickly increased becoming a hot burning fire wrenching his soul. Then, he had to stop, unable to breathe or move. He was hurting too much to go further and he remained paralyzed, staring at the gleaming light.

_**xxx**_

She let out a deep sigh as she slumped heavily in the chair, her gaze running through the decorated room. A small smile grazed her lips as she recalled the day with the team. They had managed to decorate every inch of Mac's room with Christmas balls;red, green, and golden shining garlands; stockings and LED lights already glowed their multicolored lights at the ceiling when she had come back, changed and freshened up. It was amazing how the depressing, white room had changed into a Christmas showroom that the best New York shop would have envied. Her smile widened. Danny's Christmas tree had become the official Christmas tree for the team and Don and Adam had pinned red, and green stockings all around Mac's nightstand with everyone's name on it; the biggest being Mac's. She smiled. She was more than thankful for all their attention, and hoped that Mac had been able to hear them. Now, all she wanted was a small miracle. _After all, it's Christmas,_ had grinned Lindsay,_ season's miracle._ A light grin spread over Stella's face. Yes, it was and Mac was one to make miracles happen every now and then, so why not one for him, this time?

Her sight wandered to his unconscious body, now covered by a red and green, warm blanket brought by Lindsay. She grabbed his hand and entwined her warm fingers with his cold.

"Time to wake up, Mac. Don't make me a liar," she sighed, trying to shave off the sad feelings that had returned painfully and threatened to crush her hopes.

_**xxx**_

_...__Mac,_ a voice called, Stella's voice.

She was calling him, urging him to come, but the wrenching pain was still there increasing with each further step, stronger, angrier, becoming more and more unbearable as time passed. Even the light had greyed from his sigh; only the pain, the constant scorching pain was there. He felt heavier too. The darkness had started to fade into a dark grey where the burning rays were coming from ahead. He tried to move forward, but his body refused to move. So, he remained there, waiting for the pain to subside, but it didn't. Instead, the teasing burn turned into a hot flare running through his throat and chest, and then his lungs, too, were on fire, though his limbs were numb and strikingly cold. But if he concentrated enough,he could feel a soft, comforting warmth coming from his hand and surrounded by a dazzling, bright wondered what it was?

And then, it exploded suddenly, bursting through his body, wrenching each of his muscles in an excruciating wave of tearing pain. It was everywhere, hot and cold at the same time, slashing through his being. He wanted to scream but his lips were stuck as another wave hit him with full force. He thought it was over this time, but the wave didn't vanish nor did he; to his misery, it increased again and again. His head was hurting, hammering, a long, hissing sound burst between his ears, and he fell. But his will kicked in, even if it hurt like hell he wanted to know now, he wasn't going back to the darkness. _No, never, damn it!_ The ghostly face of the word, Stella, floated before him like a distant memory, daring him to try to come back as he continued to fall. So, he hanged on the only thing he could. The one thing that had brought him here near the light, that had brought back his hope and a bit of his memory, and he squeezedas much as he could, clinging to this hope, his lips desperately calling the word, begging to hear him one last time. _Stella!_

_**xxx**_

She glanced at her watch, unable to sleep; few minutes to midnight, she noted. Though she was tired and drained, she couldn't sleep; today had brought too many expectations with the team. Her hopes up, even though Mac hadn't woken up, she could feel him, his presence being stronger in the small room. She couldn't really explain how or why, but in fact, it was more like a small tickling energy running through her fingers, muscles and body. It had to mean it was Mac, she wanted to believe it was him.

Dr Shen had clearly stated that he hadn't woken up the day before, and that she shouldn't hope that much, but she knew it wasn't true. Mac needed some time that's all. His marine training taking the toll on everything else, he had probably come for a recon. A faint smile ran through her lips, it had to be that. She wanted it to be that. Her fingers entwined in his, she looked up at the monitors, following the green, steady line of his heartbeat going up and down, and then back at her watch. Midnight. She sighed heavily._ It's Christmas._

Although the room should have been plunged into a soft, dim light, she had insisted to the nurses on call to let the light on, and so the room was bathed in a bright, white, shining light. She could feel inside her the growing feeling of nervousness in anticipation. She wanted the light to be on, he needed it to light his way back, and until people proved her wrong she would cling to the hope that he was fighting to come back. And for that, she would be there to help, even if it meant keeping watch at his bedside for days and nights, talking to him. Even if he didn't answer, she'd stay with him and help anyway she could; the light being one.

Another one was her talking to him. Her hand firmly clung to his, she bent to lay a warm kiss on his bruised forehead, careful to avoid the black stitches. Her hand lazily running through his messy hair, she spoke softly.

"Time to come back, Mac. You have slept enough. Come on sleepy head, I know you can hear me," she paused watching patiently his face, searching for any kind of sign.

With a small smile, her hand played with his brown, messy strands, realizing it was the first time she had been so close and for so long to him without him backing away. She marvelled how it would be if he was awake, and if she could do that every time she wanted, not caring about what people might think. She let out a small breath, promising to herself that she wouldn't care about what other could think if life could give her a second chance.

"Come on Mac," she urged him, her voice more pressing. "Time to come home. I'm waiting for you, partner."

As she was about to speak again, she felt a slight twinge coming from her hand. Her brows furrowed not sure if she had dreamed it, but then, the twinge changed into a light squeeze. Her eyes sparkled at the sudden realization that it was the sign she had craved for. She wasn't dreaming, it was real.

"Come on Mac, I know you can do it," she encouraged him, staring at the sleepy face hoping to see his eyes open. "Open your eyes for me Mac, please, just open your eyes," she begged, as tension crept into her shoulders.

Then, she saw, amazed, as his eyelids twitched weakly, and as the seconds passed the twitching grew stronger, and soon, faint narrow openings appeared on his face, followed by a weak grunt, his hold tightening around her hand, never letting go.

"Hey," she whispered softly, stroking his messy hair. "Welcome back, Mac. Welcome home."

"Stell..." his croaked voice slurred as opening his eyes had drained all his strength.

"It's okay Mac. Let me call your doctor." Her hand gently patted his shoulder to reassure him she wasn't leaving. "You have plenty of time to speak, okay?" She pressed on the call button, her eyes locked with the narrow opening of his. "It's gonna be okay now."

He tried to nod, and let her know that he understood, but the move made him dizzy, sending a new wave of flaring pain coursing through his muscles and all he could do was to cling to her warm hand, a weak moan escaping his lips. Behind his blurred vision, he realized, as the pain increased he was releasing it on the hand at his side. Not wanting to hurt her, he released his pressure on Stella's hand, although the pain kept firing through his lungs. He knew now why it had been so important to find her; he cared about her. And seeing her face etched in pain as he was fighting another wave of pain, he didn't want to add any more burdens on her shoulders. No. Even if he had to suck in the pain, he would not hurt her more. So he gave her a light squeeze, feeling his strength leaving him as his eyes fluttered wearily and his head sagged limply on the side.

Stella's face went white, as she watched his face being torn by the sudden flare of pain, and his hand trembling weakly between hers. She cupped his clammy cheek as his head had rolled on the side as if he was about to slip away again.

"No, Mac," she urged. Her face came inches of his. "Hold on to me Mac. It's okay. Hold on to me, with all your strength and will. You are not alone Mac. Please let me help you," she pleaded, trying to keep her voice strong as she pushed back her fear. She was so afraid that he drifted back, too drain to hold on now. "Let me ease some of your pain. Let me do that for you, Mac."

She saw his eyes opening a bit further, questions gleaming through the haze covering his light, green pools as his flushed face was now covered in sweat.

"Trust me, Mac. Let it go. All the pain, the hurt, the fear, I can take it. I'll be strong for both of us. Please, Mac. I'm begging you. Let me help."

She saw the tension in his eyes slowly vanish as his hold increased on her hand. She could feel him still holding back as his eyes were searching hers in fear; he had hurt her. "Let it go, Mac," she whispered softly, her left hand cupping his cheek, and her thumb gently rubbing his sweaty temple, stroking his damp hair. "For me Mac, let it go. Let me take some of your pain."

The crease on his forehead deepened and his hold became stronger as he finally released the pain wrenching his body, panting grunts escaping his lips. She felt tears wetting her eyes as she realized that even in the worst possible pain, he had tried to protect her, taking more on his shoulders than he should. _Mac._

As Dr Shen entered his room followed by two nurses, he quickly took note of the situation and sent one nurse back. A minute later, she was back with a tray. Over the thin layer of white dressing covering the shining, metallic tray, laid two needles. His hand pressed, slightly, on Mac's sweaty forehead and quickly shoved the beam of his flashlight into each of his eyes. Mac moaned from the hurting light burning his eyes and shut them quickly. A faint smile grazed the doctor's face, as he grabbed one needle.

"I know it hurts so I'm gonna give you some heavy painkiller and let you rest," he spoke softly, watching as Mac slowly reopened his eyes, searching for Stella's comforting gaze as the pain flared again in his green, ocean pools. As soon as he found it, his anxiety began to subside. "But I need you to answer few questions first, okay?"

Stella watched as Mac's lips slowly parted to form a silent yes.

"You have been in a coma for four days." The doctor waited a minute, letting the information sink into Mac's tortured mind. "Can you tell me your name?" asked Doctor Shen.

Her heart raced in her chest in anticipation. Was he going to be okay? Did he remember who and where he was? She watched as his eyes rolled from one side to another, then to her and Dr Shen, clearly searching the answer in his memory.

Then, his faint, hoarse voice filled the silent room. "Mac...name's....Mac Taylor," he breathed out, panting and fighting to stay awake.

"Good, Mac," replied the doctor. "Do you know where you are?"

He looked around him, but his head couldn't move and all he could make out was the white, bright ceiling over him and the man in white coat beside him with Stella.

"Lab?..." he tried, as he started to doze off, though he was fighting wearily to keep his eyes open.

Stella gave him a small smile, patting gently his shoulder, and glanced at the doctor surprised. "It's because of your coat. We wear the same at the lab," she explained.

"Ah...good," his stare went back to Mac. "One more question and I let you rest, okay?" he said as Mac's eyes fluttered open, using the last bit of energy he still had as a new wave of pain wrenched his body. A long, raking moan escaped his lips as his body arched under the pain.

"Hold on to me, Mac." Stella tightened her hold as she felt him desperately gripping her hand.

"Do you remember what happened to you?" asked Dr Shen trying to speed the process. He knew Mac was in pain, but couldn't give him any medication without checking his brain function first.

It took some time before Mac finally shook weakly his head, admitting he had no clue.

"It's okay," said the doctor with a soft smile. "I hadn't expected you to answer that one." Though now, he was sure of his patient response to different situation; like being glanced at Stella, before he plunged the long needle inside Mac's IV. "The pain should start to fade as the drugs will kick in," he stated before he nodded to Stella. "Waking up had drained his strength, so don't worry if he starts to doze off." Then he added, "I think you were right. We'll need to run a couple of tests but his answers were satisfying enough for me to tell you that I don't see him having any further complications."

Stella's face lit up at the doctor's word. _He's gonna be fin_e. She couldn't suppress the joy that filled her heart; it was just overwhelming to know that he was going to be okay. Her gaze went back to Mac's almost sleepy face as the doctor left them alone. But on the threshold, he turned toward them.

"I guess we can turn off the light now?" he asked with a slight grin.

She smiled back, nodding again, as the light was turned off, and the room was plunged in a dim, soft, orange light, the green lights of the monitors glowing on their faces in the rhythm of Mac's slowing heartbeat. His eyes were hazy and fighting to stay open when her face came close to his, not wanting to speak aloud.

"You can rest now, Mac. You're not alone anymore," she murmured to his ear, her breath caressing his face as she dropped a warm kiss over his forehead and brushed away a small, wet strand of hair. She watched with satisfaction as his tired gaze left her, his face began to relax as the drug was kicking in and he let his eyelids shut; his body obviously drained by his tremendous fight, he had dropped his barriers and his head sagged into her hand cupping his burning cheek. A proud smile grazed her lips as she realized he had abandoned himself to her; no shell, no barrier around him, just him, Mac Taylor.

"I won't let you go now," she whispered to the night as she eased herself back into the chair, her hands still stroking his cheek and holding, firmly, his limp sweaty hand with the other. She knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, unable to let her eyes rest on something else other than the comforting image of Mac's finally sleeping figure. She listened at his shallow breath as a real smile carved her face for the first time in days; Mac had woken up. He had come back to her, as she had prayed, Mac Taylor had done another miracle.

_**xxx**_

_December 25__th__ ...Christmas day_

He was floating again, but this time he didn't feel alone, no. He had something to hold onto, someone he cared for more than his life; his anchor was by his side to help him to never drift away into the cold, dark sea that he had awakened from. As his eyes fluttered open, he noted with delight that indeed he was back into the room with the white ceiling, although this time, the bright, hurting light was gone, replaced by a soft, salmon light coming from the rising sun behind the window. He was alive. He welcomed the cool air that slightly filled his burning lungs as he took a small breath. Though his mouth and throat were dry and itching, it was good to be back.

His head rolled on his side as he wondered what was weighing so much on his right hand. Though he couldn't move his arms yet, curiosity was taking over. A weak smile spread over his bruised face as he caught a bunch of messy, golden, curly hair laid over his arm. _Stella. _The word brushed his lips as the sweetest delight in the world. His reason to fight, and wake up was there, holding onto his hand to be sure they would not be separated again. More than anything, he wanted to take her in his arms, and hug her for the rest of his life. He had come back for her. But then, the painful memory of him, never telling her what he felt came back to haunt him. _She doesn't know,_ he realized with pain,_ she's my friend, we never..._ his eyes stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. This was going to be hard; he wanted so much to hold her, but not like a friend, not anymore. What was he going to do? Deep in his thoughts, he didn't see Stella stirring up tiredly, and putting back some rebellious curls behind her ears as her sleepy eyes rested on his pale, tormented face.

_He's awake, _she realized a wide smile carving her face, as she noticed his eyes staring sternly at the ceiling. She couldn't resist and gently stroked his bluish cheek. With great efforts, he turned his head toward her, his face lingering in her warm touch as their eyes locked and silence lingered between them. They were gazing at each other for a very long time before one of them, hearing the door being opened, dared to break their invisible link.

Two nurses entered the room, one holding a pile of fresh, white sheets as the other, a small brunette, stepped to the monitors. They greeted them with a gentle smile.

"So, you finally decided to join us, Detective Taylor," enquired, playfully, the small brunette.

He nodded, his mouth too dry to utter a word.

"Well," continued the other, a tall, male nurse. "I came to change your sheets. So with the help of your good friend here, and granting that she allows us to come a bit closer," he stated winking at a blushing Stella. "I will change your sheets and let you rest for the day."

"I'm not..." rambled Stella, as she watched the nurse push a long stretcher near Mac's bed, and with the help of the other nurse, lifted Mac's frail body with the help of the sheet underneath him and laid him, softly on the stretcher.

He let out a small groan, as his body moved for the first time in days. Though, it was nothing compared to the hell he had been when he first woke up.

"I bet you didn't know you had that bodyguard protecting you," threw the smiling brunette to Mac, as she glanced at Stella.

Their eyes locked and the world disappeared around them, not noticing the two pair of eyes grinning at them as the nurses glanced at each other before they finished tieing up his bed. Then, Mac felt his body being lifted once again with the sheet and gently deposited onto the fresh bed.

"Okay, here it's the hard part detective," said the small, brunette nurse as she addressed to both. "You better hold on to her," she advised him as the nurses began to lift his motionless legs to roll the old sheet onto his waist and then up to his back.

Pain ran through his muscles as his body was forced to move against his will, and he groaned weakly. Stella's warm hand tightened around his as she watched his face tense under the flaring pain, his chest rising quickly under his short, rasping breath. He swallowed as their eyes connected again. Things were so easy when she was around, he thought, as he lost his soul into the emerald glimmer, pain slowly subsiding as long as he was connected to her deep, shining pools.

"Done," broke the nurse, the sheet rolled up in her hands as she glanced at her friend with a complicit look. It was time to leave and they left those two together; comatose patients had a lot to catch up after they'd woken up. At least, she thought, as she pushed the door to exit, this one was heading toward a happy ending. Well, if these two were able to get their heads around and to get to real business. She smirked, she had always found very cute to see love blossoming for the first time, even though people were already living it for years.

Silence filled the room as their eyes were still locked together. But as Mac tried to lift his arm to cuddle her hands between his, like he used to, a wrenching pain burst in his chest, drawing him a loud, rasping cough. Soon his dry, scorched throat was burning, increasing his cough.

As worries creased Stella's face, she grabbed the glass of water left on his nightstand, and brought the straw to his cut lips as she lifted the top end of his bed. She watched, anxiously, as he tried to grab the straw with his hands, but finally renounced when he realized his strength was far from coming back. He shot her a weak smile when she set the straw directly into his mouth, but deep inside his green, ocean eyes, she could see the frustration already burning. Without even knowing what she was doing, she patted his shoulder as he sipped a small amount of water, and left his head to lean back. As he was done, she put the glass aside and gave him an encouraging smile.

"It'll come back, Mac."

"I know," he said tiredly.

"So why are you so frustrated?"

He swallowed, and for a second she swore she had seen the ghost of fear behind the green fields of his eyes. "I guess, seeing me like this must break a myth," he dropped, sadly.

And then she realized he was afraid of her reaction. Not his failure or anything, but what she might think of him in the long run. Probably rambling in his thick head that he should already be able to stride in the hallway and go for a walk. _Typical Mac. _Why was she so surprised anyway? She should have known that he was going to react like that. She locked her eyes with his, putting a schoolish grin on her face.

"Well," she began. "I must admit, I'm surprise you're not already up and trying to flee this hospital," she provoked.

Her words struck him hard, his brows furrowed as he raised a sight full of sorrow and sadness. "I...I just woke up, sorry," he said, his voice hoarse, and his throat still hurting to talk. "I guess,... this coma has taken its toll on me, sorry," he breathed out, his face flushed from all the effort he had made so far.

"Well, glad you realized that Mac. So does it mean you're gonna give yourself a break?" she replied, as she winked playfully.

He let out a small sigh followed by a weak smile and he rolled his eyes. "I surrender, okay? I got the message."

She grinned wickedly. "Fast learner; good. Maybe we can skip the next lesson and try directly for the last one now that you know that nothing will change the way I see you."

"Which is?" he enquired, now intrigued, his eyes gleaming with expectations.

"Well..." her voice died in her throat as Flack pushed the door open.

"Hey Stell," he threw, before he stopped on the threshold, staring at a fully awoken Mac. A stunned, stupid grin grazed his face.

"Don't stay in the doorway, Don," enjoined Mac, "the doc says it's not good for me to be in gusting winds." He teased and watched with delight, as Flack's dropped jaw finally settled back in place before he walked toward him.

"Mac! I'm so glad to see you, man! How do you feel?" He stopped near the bed, his smile now painted all over his face.

"Good. Got an angel to watch over me," he said as he glanced at Stella, blushing again near his bed.

"Yeah, quite the worst Taylor's addiction I've ever seen," he replied, with a small wink to Stella. "I'm not sure rehab could work on her."

Now it was Mac's turn to blush whe he saw her cheeks shaded with a soft dark pink. She stared at Don and then at Mac, her face serious. "Well, I'm sure you would have done the same for me," she cut as both grinning men turned toward her.

"Without hesitation," shot Mac as Flack watched him, startled at the instinctive answer his friend had tossed. And then, he noticed that Mac and Stella were clinging to each other, their hands not parting from each other even in his presence, and his grin widened even more. _Maybe things were really going to change._

"I'm telling you Linds, I changed her two hours ago. She's just eating and pooping too much..." Danny's voice trailed off as he stepped in and his crystal, blue eyes met Mac's tired gaze. He turned toward his wife still in the doorway, Lucy clinging to her father's neck. He took a serious look. "Well, I don't like to remind you, Lins, about these things, but... I told you so," he threw with a boyish grin as he stepped aside, revealing Mac's room.

"What, Danny?" she said, his statement getting on her nerves. "I don't see what it has to do with Lucy not being changed and your..." her voice faded as a wide smile spread over her lips and gleamed behind her eyes when she caught the sight of Mac. "You!" she said as she gently slapped Danny's arm, and passed an amused Flack. "Are you... Can I..."she began, looking at Mac. "Oh hell! You're not the boss here!" And on these words she cupped Mac's cheek and gave him a warm kiss on his forehead. "You can send me a memo for not kissing my boss later," she threw, her eyes daring him to try.

Mac grinned, his bluish cheeks taking a faint reddish color as he blushed, "I won't."

"Good, now I can completely relax. How do you feel?"

"I'm okay."

They all turned to him with an amused gaze.

"And besides your usual 'I'm fine'," cut a voice behind them, "how is it to stare into death in the eyes? I always wondered what my patients, sorry, bodies would have to say if..."

"Sid," cut Stella, happy to see the ME, "I don't think Mac is interested in your story right now."

"Oh," he dropped, as he patted Mac's arm. "Maybe next time, then."

"Yeah," replied Mac, as he watched his friends starting into playful conversations, their faces shining as they were clearly happy to see him awake.

He had missed them so much, especially Stella. He watched her moving, lightly, from the corner of his eyes, noticing for the first time her tired posture as she was now standing near his bed. Her face showing deep, curving, dark bags under her eyes, as her stiff movements betrayed her long restless watch beside him. He winced at her weary shape; all because of him. From what he had picked up in their talks, she had stayed with him since she had found him, right after he had been tossed through the window of the crime lab building.

He swallowed the knot in his throat, remembering the painful fall as everything had spun around him. In a pretty weak state, the only thing he had managed to see was her face, shedding tears when she had discovered him. He had wanted to tell her so much at the time, but it had been impossible as his body had betrayed him, and he had woken up here and now. He sighed weakly.

But now that he was back, he wanted to take the time to talk the truth to her. Maybe he would regret it, maybe they'd built something, but he had to. Even he knew that all his friends had gathered around him and was happy to see them, he was grateful she hadn't left his hand. It was soothing to be able to touch her soft, warm skin under his fingers, even though he couldn't move, his body still numb from his coma. He had missed her so much. He didn't care if everyone noticed it. He just couldn't let her go. Not now; never. He had been on the verge of losing everything, of losing her, and now he wanted to live and not wait any longer. But something stopped him from telling her what he felt right now, in this room, in the middle of their friends. Her. She might not want any of this, and the perspective of hurting her in any way was enough to make him hesitate and clam up.

While Danny and Flack had gathered around Mac, proudly exhilaratingtheir awefor their boss and friend who had managed to kick Henry's scum bags' ass even though he was cuffed and in a three against one fight, Stella's eyes couldn't leave his tired, bruised features. Watching, obsverving each muscles of his face and body to reassure her that he was okay. So, when his mood changed from a weak smile to a deep frown carving his forehead, Stella had already begun to worry. Even though with the small Lucy snuggled to his side, his mind seemed very far from them.

She wondered if it was the fact that she was still holding his hand in front of the team, or something else that was bothering him. The doctor had ordered to the nurses to put him under heavy painkiller, his IV linked to his command, but his strength wasn't back, neither his ability to move his hand to the small pump commanding the shots. Though knowing Mac, he would probably take less than required. She sighed thinking about giving his hand its freedom, but when she started to let go, she felt his hold tightened even more. With a quick glance, she locked her eyes into his, catching the ghost of fear beneath them as he quickly shaved it away, locking up his feelings inside. _What is he afraid of?_ Then, his sight went to Danny, avoiding her questioning stare, and she felt his pressure relax. But she wasn't about to let go this time, even though he hadn't talked, she got the message. She'd stay close, no matter what.

But strangely, the day went without anyone asking her to get a break or go eat something. No, everyone, especially Sid, had left her alone, and she had happily kept Mac's fingers entwined in hers. His touch so comforting, that even sometime, she found her thumb gently caressing the back of his hand without even knowing it. But what brought her even more joy was the quick glance from Mac from time to time, a small smile grazing at his lips every time their eyes locked. She had missed their quiet bonding, knowing what he thought by a dive into the depth of its green, ocean pools.

"Well, time to go," uttered suddenly Sid as he glanced at his watch and waved at the team to empty the room. "Mac probably needs to rest now." Strangely, none of them protested.

Craving for the opportunity to remain alone with his partner, Mac nodded at Sid's comment. "Sorry, Sid's right, I'm a bit tired," he admitted, though he hoped she, would stay with him.

Mischievous grins were exchanged at his affirmation. _Mac admitting he's tired._ Lindsay and Danny glanced at each other as they picked up a sleeping Lucy from Mac's side, and nestled the small baby into Danny's arms. Then, as fast as they arrived, they all quickly said goodbye and left as they headed to the door, big grins on their faces.

Mac observed nervously, wondering if she was going to leave too. Although, she bounced lightly on the sole of her foot, she didn't make a slight move to exit his room. When he realized she wasn't leaving, he released the breath he hadn't seen he had held on; a small smile tugging at his lips.

The door closed, and his room returned to a silent contemplation. The day had gone in a flash. The pleasure of being alive again, even though he couldn't move yet, and to see all his friends visiting him on Christmas day had taken its toll on him. He gazed at the room that his team, his friends had decorated the day before, the lazy, green garlands hanging from one side of the room to the other. A small grin grazed at his lips as he noticed the red stockings with the name of everyone on it, his, being the biggest, and the shy, Christmas tree gleaming and lighting the room in orange, blue, green lights as it blinked. _Christmas._ The word echoed in his mind as his thoughts slowly slipped back to what had brought him here. _I was supposed to invite her today, and instead she spent her week here, waiting and worrying. _His eyes filled suddenly with painful sorrow. _All because of me._

"What are you thinking Mac?" softly asked Stella as she had noticed the gloomy shadow returning in his green pools as he looked down; a deep frown creasing her forehead.

He took a deep breath, before he raised a weary pair of eyes on her. "Sorry it took me this long. You worried for me and I should..."

"Hey Mac," she cut him, her voice soft and soothing. "Now you're here and it's all that really matters." She looked down at their entwined fingers and a wide smile gleamed in her eyes as she raised them up. "I'm just glad you're here."

"Me too," he whispered, "it's just... well, you here... with me..."

His eyes finally locked into hers and her jaw dropped at what she saw; Mac's timid smile looking at her. She tried not to smile too widely at the timid attitude that her partner was taking. _Mac, shy?_ _That was new._

"I... I wanted to spend this day with you," he breathed out. "I know it's selfish, and well, I wanted to ask you that, before...well..."his voice trailed off, his gaze looking out the window at the setting sun before it came back to lock with Stella's eyes. "I'm sorry Stell, I never did, I should, but..."

She put a soft finger over his lips and his voice immediately faded as he looked up, his heart beating a bit further in his chest. "So we did, Mac, so we did." She gave him her best comforting smile. "We spent Christmas together, and to be honest, I wanted you to ask." She let her words sink into his mind as she watched his tense face relax. "I'm happy you're okay, and maybe next Christmas we will..."

"No," his strong tone surprised her, as she locked her eyes into his, puzzled. But quickly, his charming smile grazed his lips.

"I won't be able to wait till next year." He finally uttered with a small breath. "I..." he paused, his eyes gleaming with a new strength. _Now or never, Mac._ "I want more Stella. If I had asked you to join me for Christmas it would have been a date...I mean..." he stopped, letting his words sink into hers as if to let her any chance to run away. But she didn't move nor run, so he continued. "I care a lot about you... more than you can imagine, and I..."

"Mac," she stopped him, her warm gaze locking with his. He raised a nervous look to her. "I do care a lot about you too, and I want more too." She smiled, no, she wouldn't be able to wait until next Christmas either. She sighed. "I missed my friend and I..."

He smiled back, interrupting her. "Come here," he said, as he tried to lift his right arm to make some room beside him, but failed miserably, only raising it an inch from the sheets.

"Well mister tough guy," she teased him. "I guess you're gonna need me for some time," she said with a playful smile as she gently lifted his arm and the red and green blanket. Then, she snuggled beside him, careful not to press on his sore ribs and wrapped his arm around her neck.

"Want to play the nurse," he teased with a warm smile.

"You know me, always ready to give a hand," she replied playfully as she laid back the blanket over her and gave him a warm smile before she let out a small, sad puff.

"Stella?" he asked, afraid she might be backing away after all.

"Just wondering why it took us so long?"

His brows creased, "I have no idea. But I know how to skip to the next lesson." His boyish smile back on his face, his eyes sparkled with a gleaming light as he imagined what he wanted to do next.

"Oh yeah and how?" she wondered, encouraging him to continue.

His smile spread to his ears as he put all his strength into his arm to pull her close to him, her face inches to his. As his lips timidly brushed the soft skin of hers, the green of his ocean pools turned into a bright, dazzling blue and locked into the green jewel gazing at him in expectation.

"Thanks for believing in me," he spoke softly, his warm breath caressing her cheek.

Giving all he had left, he managed to lift his hand to her golden, curly hair, and stroke the golden strands with delight, his tense body finally relaxing. He wasn't alone anymore, she was there, with him.

"Thanks for coming back," she replied and, as she hadn't pushed him away, their lips joined into an eternal, passionate kiss.

His hand slowly slid along her neck, stroking her soft skin as he lingered into tasting her lips. This time, there was no doubt in his mind that he had made the right choice for coming back; she was his destiny, she was the part of him that he had missed for so long. As their lips broke apart to let their lungs breathe, he could see her eyes shining with a new light; true happiness. He smiled, realizing that his were probably reflecting the same joy of finding her and finally being able to be with her completely, without barrier.

"Fast learner," she uttered softly as she locked her shining eyes into his. Then, a soft statement paralyzed her for a second, before it filled her soul with an infinite warmth.

"I love you," he whispered in her ears, her soft, curls nuzzling with his bruised cheek.

She looked up, catching with delight the new fire blazing behind his blue pools and she knew that he was going to be okay. Gently, she snuggled her head against his shoulder, her body lightly pressed against his to share their warmth, but not enough to hurt his tender chest or ribs. She heard him whispering with delight as he felt her body against his. Carefully, she lay her arm over his chest avoiding the wounded area, her fingers beginning to stroke lazily. She closed her eyes, relaxing her tense muscles into his arms as she felt his chin resting softly into her hair. His warm breath caressed her neck. She smiled, happy. She could rest now, even if they still had a long and rough road ahead of them, they would be together to face it, and together they would overcome any obstacles. As she tightened her hold around his frail chest, she felt his body relaxing under her touch, and his breath became slow and steady; a broad smile carved her lips as they had finally found each other.

"I love you too, Mac," she murmured in a soft breath as sleep finally claimed both of them.

Between the lazy, white flakes falling outside, the soft, golden light of the setting sun tenderly caressed their tired, but peaceful faces, welcoming back its bravest children to a world of joy and happiness.

_The End__...

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**A****/N:** Well, I hope you liked this end, now don't forget to leave me your comment... And Merry Christmas to you all. :)


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